


Damaged

by xmypandabear



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: AU, Angst, Being Lost, Drama, Ed Swears, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Marcoh never comes, Mystery, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Canon, Post-Promised Day, Post-Series, Recovery, Sacrifice, Surgery, Swearing, Truth is a bastard, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-17 09:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14186256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xmypandabear/pseuds/xmypandabear
Summary: '"He's still in the hospital too, with the Lieutenant," Alphonse said dully. "Blood loss - someone slit her throat..." Ed stared up at the ceiling, remembered the scientist with the gold tooth, and shuddered at the image his brain conjured of the Lieutenant lying on the floor. "But Mei helped her! So, they're sharing a room - the Colonel and Hawkeye, I mean, not Mei, 'cause the Colonel can't use his hands yet, so she's helping him...""His hands?" Ed tried to remember."It's how they forced him to do it," Al whispered. "They pinned him down so he couldn't move."Ed fought back nausea. The sense of wrong, wrong, wrong pervaded every sense of his being. How the fuck was any of that equivalent exchange?'---The Promised Day is over, but the 'sacrifices' still have a ways to go before they get their true happy ending. AU after Brotherhood.





	1. Hurting

**Author's Note:**

> This started by just wanting Ed to feel pain after the Promised Day - because a lot went down and realistically he'd be almost dead after everything - but quickly escalated into something pretty different, focusing on more on the 'what-if' that came from losing the Gate and combining it with what happened to Mustang. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

“Fucking homunculi,” Ed muttered and suppressed the urge to cough as he looked down at the bandages covering his body almost head to toe.

“Hmm?”

Opposite, a sleepy Al stirred, stretched and then looked over at Ed with half-lidded eyes.

“I’d swear your hearing’s improved," Ed said and grimaced at how his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.  

“Maybe,” Al smiled. The skin pulled too tightly over his cheeks, but it was still beautiful. “Do you want some water?”

Ed shook his head, but the little idiot ignored him, so he snapped, "Don’t get -” and then gave up with a huff. Al pushed himself out of the bed and, using the edge for support, stumbled across the tiny gap between their two beds and somehow barely lost any water as he half-sat, half-collapsed on the side of Ed’s bed. “Idiot!”

Al rolled his eyes. “Brother, just listening to you hurts. Coming over here was best for _me_. Now drink!”

Ed scowled but let him tip the glass up to his lips and said nothing when Al's shaking hand spilt most of it down his front. The water stopped his tongue from sticking, but the cough he'd been suppressing escaped and he groaned at the pain which wracked through his body. There was a new taste in his mouth as well, a familiar coppery tang, and he was about to swallow it back when -

"Spit it out," Al said. Ed pulled a face, but did so. His brother put the bloody glass on the bedside table and grabbed the cloth next to it, before leaning forward and dabbing at Ed's lips. "They said it should've stopped by now."

"It's fine," Ed said and turned his face away. Al sighed and pulled back, so Ed looked back at him and took in the way he was chewing his lip. Every inch of him screamed 'worry' and Ed sighed and cursed, "Damn list," because that was really what this was all about.

When he’d first woken up, after collapsing in the middle of the hospital the instant Al was taken out of sight, Al had just silently held up a list of written injuries for Ed to read (he’d asked the doctors to write it). Broken ribs; broken fingers; broken toes; fractured wrist; dislocated shoulder; bruising deep enough to cause swelling in his thigh and stomach; concussion; torn muscles; atrophied muscles; a gaping, infected wound all the way through his arm; cuts and grazes; and the thing currently causing him trouble - internal bleeding.

Even by Ed’s standards, it was bad.

“Dumb you,” Al said with a sniffle. Ed blinked and realised Al was deliberately keeping his face angled down and away from Ed’s sight.

"Says you,” he pointed out and Al’s shoulders hunched even more. “You gotta start looking better or Winry’s gonna cry when she arrives.”

“She’s gonna cry when she sees what you did to her leg anyway.”

“Proud tears,” Ed insisted because compared to the rest of his body, his automail leg was okay. Admittedly it grinded in a way it shouldn’t and occasionally sent odd tingles up his nerves, but it was in one piece. He didn’t like what that said about its hardiness compared to him, but it did serve to prove how lucky he was to have Winry (and Granny) as his mechanics. “Also, my leg.” Al snorted and said nothing.

Traitor.

There was tightness in his chest again and he couldn't suppress another cough, pulling another face when he felt something warm drip down his chin.

"It's getting worse," Al said as he grabbed the cloth and wiped the blood away again. "I'm gonna get a nurse."

Despite Ed's protesting noises, Al rolled off the bed and used a hand on the wall to support him as he walked across and out the room. Ed let out a frustrated hiss and regretted it when it triggered a significantly longer coughing fit. His lips were slippery with spit and blood by the end and he grabbed the cloth with his old-new right arm. Aside from a few bruises it was okay, just as weak as Al's whole body, though it trembled fiercely as he bent it to wipe away all traces before Al came back. He'd just dropped the cloth back down when the door opened and a couple of nurses and a doctor came in.

Ed opened his mouth to tell them Al was overreacting, but the inhale shifted something in his lungs and caused another coughing fit. Hands moved him into a sitting position and Ed would’ve groaned from the pain, but he was too busy trying to get the blood out of his throat so he could get enough air.

“We'll have to do it,” the doctor said to the nurse, and it seemed that had been the magic word.

One nurse stayed with him, making sure he stayed upright, while two others moved outside and came back a few minutes later with a bed on wheels. Al was quick on their heels and, to Ed’s surprise, so was Teacher and Sig (or, well, to be more accurate, Sig was carrying Al while Teacher followed). The man put Al down on the other bed, then moved next to Ed and before Ed could really get what had happened, the man had lifted him up and put him on the wheelie bed.

“You’re so needy,” Teacher scoffed as Ed was wheeled past. He would’ve replied, but he barely had enough air to breathe let alone talk, so instead he just reached a hand out – he wasn’t sure why, to hit her or make a rude gesture, or something - and she caught his hand and squeezed, like he’d needed reassurance or some shit. Then the doctors and nurses wheeled him away and the last thing Ed remembered before losing consciousness was Teacher moving to wrap her arms around a panicking Al while Sig stood protectively by.

* * *

When Ed next woke, there was a fierce ache throughout his whole body and a tearful Alphonse sitting by his bed.

"You okay?"

The words were out before he could think, but Al's face only crumpled further as he leaned forward and pressed a hand to Ed's forehead. "You're so warm..." he breathed. Ed wanted to lean into Al's cool hand, but he fought against it because the idiot hadn't answered his question.

"Al."

Al huffed a little, then said, "I'm _fine_ , already much better than yesterday, which is more that can be said for _you_." Which, fair enough, Ed hadn't thought it possible but he did feel even shitter than the last time he'd been awake.

"Sure?" he couldn't help roaming his gaze over the way Al's hospital gown dwarfed him and sunk in on every bony gap where there should be muscle.

"Stop worrying about me and focus on yourself! You have an infection!" Ed rolled his eyes, though he regretted it when the world went a little dizzy, and didn't reply because telling Ed to put himself before Alphonse was like telling the sun not to rise in the East.

Al knew it too, if the way his lips twisted down was any indication.

“How’s…” Ed’s brain crowded with images of all their friends and family, unable to choose one specific to ask after, and he eventually finished, “…everyone?"

His brother sighed but accepted the change in topic. "They're all in hospital," he admitted, then probably saw Ed's worry because he added, "though I think a lot of them have gone home or will soon, 'cause the hospitals are overflowing and anyone whose injuries aren't serious was told to go home and come back another day."

"Teacher?"

"She's just down the hall - she's got some internal bleeding and bruised ribs too, though they aren't - they don't think she'll need surgery, not like you did, they're just watching... Sig's with her."

Ed ran through the events of the previous day. Teacher having similar injuries made a lot of sense and he felt quite bad for her, if it was anything like what he felt. Then he remembered one of the most shocking aspects and he tensed, half-sitting up as he licked dry lips and asked,

"Colonel Bastard?" A familiar horror, and unfamiliar panic, enveloped him when Al bowed his head and didn't say a word. Then anger welled up, a roaring fireplace that temporarily chased away some of the chill he felt, and he managed to form a fist though he couldn't slam it down like he wanted. "Fuck!" his head flopped back down on the pillow because it wasn't _fair_ , the Colonel had been forced.

Didn't that count for anything?

"He's still in the hospital too, with the Lieutenant," Alphonse said dully. "Blood loss - someone slit her throat..." Ed stared up at the ceiling, remembered the scientist with the gold tooth, and shuddered at the image his brain conjured of the Lieutenant lying on the floor. "But Mei helped her! So, they're sharing a room - the Colonel and Hawkeye, I mean, not Mei, 'cause the Colonel can't use his hands yet, so she's helping him..."

"His hands?" Ed tried to remember.

"It's how they forced him to do it," Al whispered. "They pinned him down so he couldn't move."

Ed fought back nausea. The sense of wrong, wrong, _wrong_ pervaded every sense of his being. How the fuck was any of that equivalent exchange?

"But, everyone else is okay, and even - even Teacher and the Colonel are going to be fine, so..." Al's voice wobbled. "The Armstrong's were hurt pretty bad, but... well, you - _we're_ the worst of everyone, you know?" He snorted but it was slightly wet, as if he were holding back tears. "But I'm not injured at all... if I hadn't been a suit of armour -"

"Hey," Ed interrupted. That kind of thinking wasn't allowed. "We keep moving forward, okay?" He pulled his hand back from Al's face, held it in front of his chest and formed a fist again. He waited and, after a moment, Al met it with his own fist, the motion emphasising all the veins and bones in his hands. Whatever nutrients his body had been getting from Ed had been enough to survive, but clearly not much else. Ed stared at the frail hand - it looked so _old_ \- and wondered how long it would take for Al to recover, how many months he'd spend in bed, in physical therapy, before he'd be healthy and happy.

"Oh..." Al breathed, eyes widening. "Are you shivering?" His eyes ran up and down Ed's body, then he held out a hand to Ed's forehead again. "I think you're even hotter!"

"M'fine," Ed said. Just because his heart never stopped racing after hearing about the Lieutenant or he felt a little cold or he wanted to sleep didn't mean anything.

"You've gone really pale, even just while we've been talking..." Al swallowed and got off the bed. He didn't even bother telling Ed why, just stumbled and staggered to the door, caught his breath on the handle for a few seconds, then flung himself outside calling for a nurse.

Ed tried to stay awake until he returned, he really did, but everything ached and he was just so tired...

* * *

 After everything they'd been through, it wound up being the infection which took him closest to death.

Al was moved to another room because the doctors feared he would catch something in his weakened state. Then, when Ed got even worse, visitors were barred completely. Ed probably would have complained, but he was barely with it long enough to notice. The times he was aware enough to speak to the nurses never lasted very long and usually ended with him either vomiting, shitting himself, seizing or falling unconscious (which, in later lucid moments, made him grateful no one could visit).

The doctors were inclined to blame the rusty screws which had pierced his arm, but they'd also admitted it could have come from the million other cuts he'd gathered. Nurses had spent the days cleaning and rebandaging every open wound, plying him with water and praying his body would get its act together and fight off the infection itself.

Normally it would.

Ed was proud of his body's ability to fight off sickness as easily as breathing, but in the wake of Promised Day - after he'd pushed until he couldn't go on, and then the real shit had gone down and he'd pushed even further; in the wake of his surgery, exhausting his already weak body further - it couldn't. It tried to give up. Ed felt it, when he was too hot and too cold and his body screamed at him to close his eyes and rest; he saw Truth's grin in every shadow and phantom hands grabbed him; if he shut his eyes, they would take him forever.

But he couldn't leave Al, so he kept his eyes open and gasped for air, and somehow he held on.

A little over two weeks passed before the doctors and nurses finally took a step back, shared a look of exhausted relief and told Ed he was over the worst of it. It didn't feel like that to him, but he realised they were telling the truth when they opened the door one day and Al was waiting outside, being supported by Sig and Teacher.

"Brother!" Al shouted. Ed drank in his delight and felt like he was lying in the meadows in Resembool with the sun beaming down at him.

"Al," he croaked and tried to sit upright.

"Don't!"

Ed froze at Al's shout. The delight had gone and instead, tears were pouring down Al's face. Ed glanced down at himself, figured he did look pretty bad, and then forced his wrecked left arm to push up his torso, so he could hold out the pitifully weak right one and gesture to the space next to him.

He'd asked the nurses to leave him close to the side after they'd bathed him so there would be room for his brother.

With a tiny cry, Al broke out of Sig's grip and ran to Ed's bed. He clung to the edge, entire body trembling from the effort, and Ed wouldn't have held back even if he'd been at gun point. He gritted his teeth and forced everything to move, to reach out and pull Al the rest of way. He ignored the screaming muscles and stabbing chest pains to hold his brother close, tuck Al's head under his chin and just breathe. Al curled into him and suddenly it was like when they were little and the nights were too lonely.

He couldn't believe he'd forgotten the way Al's hair always tickled his neck (because it never stayed flat), or how hot he was (radiating heat just as well as a fire).

"Edward," came a far-away voice and Ed's eyes snapped open as his arms tightened even more around Al. He bared his teeth towards the voice because Al was sobbing, tiny gasps only audible to Ed and Ed would fight anyone who dared to say anything. "It's just us," Teacher said softly, pausing in her approach. Ed eyed her and tried to judge how likely she was to beat them up; he was distracted by the tightness around her eyes and mouth and the way one arm was half-curled around her abdomen. He remembered then what Al had said about her injuries.

He knew better than to assume it didn't make her a threat, but he relaxed anyway. Teacher continued until she was next to the bed.

"Are you up for a few more visitors?" she asked and Ed frowned, looking down his nose at the top of Al's head. He already had the only person he wanted and besides, right now Al needed him; he didn't think he could spare attention for anyone else.

Then Al proved he'd been a little aware because he whispered, "It's Winry and Granny..." which was permission enough, so Ed nodded at Teacher.

Sig moved, unblocking the entrance, and Ed’s breath caught as Winry and Granny pushed past him, the former slamming the door shut so none of the curious faces outside could see (which Ed would appreciate later but for now was distracted by something deep shifting in his chest, an emotion he couldn’t identify trying to suffocate him in a way the pain couldn’t).

They looked abso-fucking-lutely perfect and he hadn’t realised how much he’d needed to know that – how much it had hurt, when he’d realised the array had worked and they were _gone_ – until they were there in front of him, Winry with her hands on her hips, furious despite the tears filling her eyes as she studied him just as intently, and Granny with her pipe, assessing him calmly.

“I know you really want to,” Ed said, hating how haggard he sounded but hoping to ward off Winry’s rant before she could start, “but can you wait to hit me for a few more days?”

“I -” Winry looked thrown, but she recovered quickly. “If you didn’t keep being stupid, I wouldn’t have to hit you!” she huffed, before making a beeline to Ed’s leg. He let out a pitiful groan at the thought of what she’d do to it.

“Thank you for being here while we couldn’t,” Granny said, turning to look at Teacher and Sig, and Ed blinked, wondered if this was the first time they’d met. He imagined what the world would be like if Teacher and Granny teamed up and the resulting destruction was so intimidating he needed to bury his face in Al’s hair for a few seconds to gather his courage again.

“It was our pleasure,” Teacher replied, and Ed would’ve said something to contradict that but then Winry shrieked and both Ed and Al flinched.

“What happened?” Winry gasped, hands hovering all over his leg, fingers twitching like they didn’t know where to go first. “It shouldn’t – how has this stayed on? Can you even move it?” her head snapped to him while her hands lovingly stroked the air above the metal. Ed snarled but she refused to back down. “Try and bend it,” she ordered and Ed was about to point out he would hit Al, but the little bastard moved so his face was next to Ed’s and his legs were curled up well out of the way.

When Ed turned a very unimpressed look at him, he smiled innocently back.

“Slave driver,” Ed muttered and turned his attention to the automail for the first time in weeks. He took a fortifying breath and then tried to bend it as far as he could. There was the familiar uncomfortable grinding and he grimaced because this time a spark of pain accompanied it. Once it reached a point where it wouldn’t move any further, he stopped trying and slumped back into the bed. He closed his eyes and waited for the tremors to ease. When he opened his eyes again, his cheeks warmed as he realised everyone was staring at him worriedly. “What?!”

Fortunately, that was enough to snap Winry out of it.

“R-right, okay, I see it. Ed, I’m gonna have to – can you move it again? Just a little?” she asked. He wanted to say no, wanted to tell her to try and exhaust herself while the rest of her body lay broken, but it was too much effort. He just sighed and tried again. This time, when the grinding began, Winry bent over and did something that –

“Fuck!” he swore as a sharp pain laced through him like a lightning strike and he slammed back against the bed, swearing again when his ribs complained. “What the fucking fuck Winry!?”

“I had to!” she said and Ed froze at how tearful she sounded. He swallowed and looked down, not quite willing to move anything just yet, and saw his leg had fallen apart. “There was – some debris had got jammed, twisted the metal and it was cutting on your nerves. It was the only way!” she sounded defensive but her voice wobbled as she collected the different pieces. Ed watched her, remembered how long she had slaved over his leg, and figured destroying it had probably been like killing a child to her. 

All his anger just drained out of him and, maybe because he was looking properly this time, he suddenly saw how her hands trembled and there were dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn’t been sleeping well. A quick look at Al revealed the same circles, just significantly darker.

They both needed rest, but neither of them would get it while they were worrying about him. There was no chance of sending them away either – not that he wanted Al to go out of his sight – so there was only one solution.

“Teacher,” he said, looking to her and Sig. “Can you bring the bed over?” The other nurses had helpfully brought back in a second bed for Alphonse and left it on the other side of the room. Belatedly, Ed realised he should’ve asked Sig, but fortunately the man forced Teacher to stay where she was and moved it himself, pushing it until the edge was against Ed’s and made a double bed.

“Winry,” Ed said, turning back to her. She’d collected all the bits of metal into her bag.

“What?” she huffed, still sounding defensive, and Ed rolled his eyes and thumped the bed next to them. Winry blinked. “Huh?”

“I think brother’s telling you to rest,” Al said helpfully, already snuggling back up to Ed’s chest and Ed automatically wrapped an arm around him. When Winry just stared, Ed scowled and looked away, hating how warm his cheeks had gone. There was no chance he’d actually _say_ she should join them so if she couldn’t get it then it wasn’t his fault –

“Okay,” she said, very quietly, and Ed watched from under his bangs as she divested herself of anything metal and then climbed on the bed, pulling the cover over herself.

The new position meant Ed looked at her over Al’s head, but she was still separated from them and if Ed had intended that, then she could’ve just taken the bed while it was on the other side of the room. Fortunately, Al got it and saved Ed from further embarrassment by reaching out his thin hand and grabbing Winry’s, tugging her closer and closer until she was pressed up against his back.

“You’re both so warm…” Al breathed, audible only to Ed and Winry, but thankfully he was staring at Ed’s chest and missed the way Winry’s eyes filled with tears as she _got_ it. Ed looked at her and she smiled back weakly, and then flung an arm over Al’s chest, her hand coming to rest against Ed's. She closed her eyes, buried her face in the back of Al’s head, and it was ridiculous how much better he felt now that Winry and Al were both within reach, within his protection.

They weren’t dead, weren’t philosopher’s stones or stuck behind the gate, but hot breaths on his neck and a calloused hand on his waist.

He swallowed and then looked at the others. Granny’d moved until she was sitting at the corner of the bed and was watching over the three of them. He looked beyond her to Teacher and Sig, hoping they could read the question in his eyes. The firm nod they gave him said yes and, relieved they would watch over his family while he couldn’t, Ed rested his head against the pillow and finally gave in to what his body had been craving since he’d woken up, swiftly lulled to sleep by the comforting heartbeat of his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably won't have many chapters. Can probably be read as a one-shot. 
> 
> Right now, you may be thinking, 'oh, this wasn't so bad. Alphonse just cried a lot.' Yeah no wait for it.


	2. Hiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Al, what did you do?
> 
> Also I'm not a doctor in any way. Anything that's wrong, I claim artistic licence.

His awakening was significantly less peaceful.

He heard the screaming first. He had a second to think _Al_ and then something hit his chest hard and knocked him off the bed. Pain exploded everywhere when he hit the floor and his vision whited out. When he came to - seconds, minutes later - he realised people were shouting, Winry and Teacher and Al, and he opened his mouth to tell them to shut up but only a groan came out. It did the job though, judging by the sudden silence.

"ED!"

Or not.

Then, there were hands on his sides as people shouted above him and he couldn't stop a flinch because even that tiny pressure hurt. The hands immediately pulled away as someone babbled apologies in a broken voice and it took Ed far too long to realise it was Alphonse.

"Al?" he mumbled and opened his eyes, wincing from the bright light. Everything was blurry but he could make out the dangling bed sheets to his left and what was probably Winry to his right, and he was about to sit up when Granny appeared, blocking out everything else as she leant over and put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Don't move Ed," she ordered. Ed shot her a disgusted look - how could she expect him to stay still when he could hear the endless litany of guilt coming from Al - and he pushed against her hand, forced his arms to do their job for once.

Then something _cracked_ inside him.

It was the queerest feeling and he tensed, had a few seconds to wonder _what_ before a fire ignited in his chest. He keened, body rolling onto his side and curling in automatically, and then when he let out a sob of pain something caught in his throat, thick and warm. He choked, gagged and coughed, his eyes burned, and he barely felt the hands on his back and shoulders keeping him upright or the hands holding his hair back, as with every breath he hacked up blood, at first a little but the more he coughed, the more kept coming and it splattered across the floor, his hands and his clothes.

Then his vision started to go hazy and the part of him which could step back and think through the pain realised this was serious, and he worked to try and suppress his coughing. It helped a little, gave him enough time to get some desperately needed air and hear enough around him to recognise -

"A-Al," he rasped because he could _still_ hear low moaning from his brother and remember the scream.

"Brother please oh god don't die," a blur to his right said and his vision snapped back as he clamped his mouth shut and turned his head to look. Al's hands were shaking as he knelt next to Ed, his clothing speckled with blood, and he looked so - "I'm so sorry it's all my fault please brother don't die -" Ed tried to get more air around the blood in his throat even as he reached out a shaky hand to grab Al's shoulder. It was just skin and bone underneath but Ed still squeezed, tried not to fear breaking it because no matter what, Al should never look that devastated.

But he couldn't get those words out, couldn't even get enough air in and he doubled over again, falling into Al's chest as he couldn't suppress the coughing anymore and he felt the blood drip out of his mouth, slippery and coppery.

"S-sorry," he choked out, trying to push away so he wouldn't completely cover Al, but then -

The doctors finally came and forced everyone around him back. Strong hands picked him up as something covered his mouth and it was immediately easier to breathe, but that was the last thing he remembered before the additional pain from being manhandled made him black out.

* * *

 The room was significantly quieter the next time he woke up. Although he could breathe much better, his head felt fuzzy enough that he figured no one would mind if he just lay there and tried to get his bearings.

"... he doing?" someone asked, her voice pitched low enough Ed both struggled to make it out and place it with a face.

"He'll pull through, just about," that was Granny, Ed was relieved to recognise, though he was less relieved when he recognised the exhaustion in her words.

"That's a relief. From what we heard..."

Granny sighed. "He needed surgery again, but the doctors weren't certain he'd survive it - not after that damn infection..." she paused when the other person gasped softly, then continued, "I told them if the brat was stubborn enough to survive automail surgery when he was ten, he wouldn't kick the bucket over some tiny cuts to his chest." There was a rustle of bedsheets and then he felt a hand in his hair. He would've protested if he'd had any energy but, stuck in the haze, he found his muscles relaxing under the gentle back-and-forth motions, lulling him back into a dream-like state. 

"His stubbornness is rather legendary among the military," the other person said after a beat, her tone surprisingly fond, and suddenly Ed placed the voice: Lieutenant Hawkeye. He'd struggled to place it before because it was much weaker than he remembered, rough on certain words.

Didn't Al say her throat had been cut?

"Ha!" Granny snorted.

Hawkeye cleared her throat, then said, "We were also concerned to hear about Alphonse..."

Finally, something worth waking up for.

The haze cleared and he found the strength to open his eyes and squint up at a blurry Granny. A few blinks brought her into focus, but before he could do anything more her hands snapped out and grabbed hold of both shoulders with far more strength than her figure suggested. "Move one muscle and you drink an entire glass of milk," she threatened. Ed forced his body to relax, hadn't realised he'd tensed so much, and Granny nodded approvingly. Ed couldn't resist pulling a face at her because that was a low blow.

"It's good to see you awake Edward," Hawkeye said and Ed looked over at her, careful to only move his head. "We were very worried about you."

"You too," he rasped and studied her. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he realised she looked fine. No circles like Al and Winry, no tense lines like Teacher - only the bandages around her neck indicated something was wrong. "Your throat?"

"Healing, thank you," she answered, a hand moving to touch it almost automatically. "The bandages should come off in the next few days."

"Good," he said and then looked back at Granny. "Al?" The way Granny studied him, clearly deciding what to tell him, made him tense and hear the pounding of his heart in his ears. "He's okay?" Had something happened? Was that why Winry wasn't here? "Granny?" he automatically tried to sit up in his panic and was not only held back by Granny, but also pushed down by Hawkeye who had moved to assist.

"Lay down you damn brat or I won't tell you a thing!" Granny scowled and lightly slapped at his head. Ed went boneless and stared up wide-eyed at her. "Alphonse is fine, Winry is currently keeping him company. He became far too agitated and his body couldn't cope, so they gave him a few drugs to calm down and he's now resting in the next room over." Ed turned the words over, watched carefully for any deceptive flickers, but Granny just stared back calmly and he decided she was telling the truth.

The adrenaline faded as quickly as it had come and he couldn't quite hold back a moan as the aches and pains came back with a vengeance.

"Yes, you've done a number on yourself," Granny said, her hand returning to his hair while Hawkeye returned to her seat. "I know it hurts. Can you breathe okay?"

"Yeah," he gritted out as another sharp flare of pain shot through him. He'd never done well with lying around feeling pain; he looked back to Hawkeye, hoping for a distraction by asking, "How's the bastard?"

Hawkeye's gaze fell to her hands. "His body is healing," she answered. She didn't elaborate but Ed didn't think she needed to. As before, when he thought of Mustang's situation a sense of wrongness spread over his entire body, almost paralysing him with its strength. It was more than just a rage against the unfairness, the injustice - it felt almost unnatural as it clenched around his heart, pounded against his head, and Ed wasn't sure it was him or something else speaking when he said,

"Bring him next time."

Her gaze snapped back up. "You... would want that?" she blinked. The wrongness released its grip and Ed breathed in and out slowly, brain racing to understand what had just happened. Whether it had been him or not that spoke though, it was true he did want to see the bastard, so he nodded and said,

"Got some words to say, and it's not like I gotta worry about appearances, right?" he snorted and winced again at the pain.

Too late, he realised that was probably a bit insensitive (if the way Hawkeye's lips thinned was any indication). He scrambled for a way to recover, but was saved by the door opening and Winry entering, one of Al's arms over her shoulders and her arm around his waist.

Ed forgot all about Hawkeye and Mustang to inspect his brother. His walk was still unsteady and he was breathing too hard for the exercise he was doing, but it was the blood-shot eyes and overly-large pupils which caught his attention first, followed by the way Al flinched when he realised Ed was looking at him and curled into himself, shoulders hunching down and gaze falling so their eyes wouldn't meet.

Ed was intimately acquaintanced with that posture.

"Heard they gave you the good drugs," he said as Winry settled Al on the edge of the bed. She placed him within easy reach and later, Ed would thank her, but at that moment all he could do was hold Al's hand and squeeze. "Figures the nurses like you better. Before you know it, they'll be sneaking you chocolates and shit."

"I guess," Al mumbled and shrugged the arm which Ed wasn't holding.

An idea came to Ed. It was probably a bad one, and could backfire quite easily, but he didn't have the energy to spend a long time convincing Al he shouldn't feel guilty, so... He gathered all his energy and shoved Al so he wobbled unsteadily on the side of the bed. The incredulous looks on everyone's faces as they rushed to stabilise Al cracked Ed up - though the sharp stab in his chest turned his laughter into a pained groan after a few seconds.

"Serves you right!" Winry snapped while Hawkeye made a disapproving noise.

"We're even now, right?" Ed ignored them, eyes only for Al.

"But-" Al's eyes widened. "But you broke a rib! There was - blood, so much of it -" his voice wobbled and Ed winced, remembering regretfully he'd wound up hacking blood all over his brother, "- and you had surgery! You - you nearly _died_ and it was my fault-" his voice broke, finally, and he hunched forward and his shoulders started shaking. "I nearly killed you!" he sobbed.

Well, it was only one glass of milk.

Ed summoned the strength which had taken him through so much before, draped it around himself as a shield to the pain, and pushed himself into a sitting position. He batted away Granny and Winry's hands, ignored their pleading to stay still, and wrapped his arms around Al's painfully thin shoulders, rested a hand at the back of his head and pressed a light kiss just above the ear.

"We're even," he whispered, audible only to his brother, "It just took you five years." He felt Al tense and knew the message was received.

When he pulled back so he could see Al's face, his brother's jaw was clenched tight but his gaze was determined rather than guilty (Ed suspected Al had more to say and was just waiting until they were alone).

"You should be lying down," Al said instead, reaching up to grab Ed's hands on his shoulders.

"Yeah," Ed agreed, but didn't move. He didn't think he had enough strength in his abdomen to control his descent back down and didn't want to slam down and do any more damage. There was no way he'd admit that though, especially when there were two black gazes searing into him, so he was stuck.

He was saved again by the scrape of a chair and everyone looked at Hawkeye who had stood up.

"I'll take my leave then," she said, inclining her head towards them. "I'm glad you're both feeling better, Edward, Alphonse," she paused. "Would you mind if the rest of the team visited at some point?" Ed shrugged and smiled because it would be nice to make sure the others had come through unscathed, and Hawkeye smiled back. "I'll come visit again soon." She turned to leave and that strange feeling took over Ed again. Al's head snapped to him, eyes narrowing.

"Bring him." The words were out before he could stop them. Hawkeye nodded and then left and the feeling disappeared.

"Brother..." Al said cautiously, staring at him like he didn't recognise him. Ed met his gaze, swallowed and shrugged, because he had no answer to give.

"Bring who?" Winry cut in and then raised her eyebrows. "Wait. You mean the Colonel?"

"Yeah," Ed said and the way Al crossed his arms but said nothing promised they'd come back to it (again, probably when they were next alone), so Ed looked to Winry with only a little bit of guilt as he explained, "Hawkeye said he wasn't doing so great, and s'not like I can go see him, so..." he didn't want to look too hard into why he wanted to speak to Mustang, so he cast around for a different topic and Al's scream echoed in his ears. He looked back at his brother. "Hey, why were you screaming?"

That had been the wrong question to ask, judging by the way everyone around him tensed.

"It's not important," Al said hastily, Winry nodding beside him and then reaching out to fluff his pillow. Ed scowled at them both. When she put it back, her hand came close to his and he grabbed hold as tight as he could and stopped her from moving away.

"Winry," he growled.

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering all over his face as she half-heartedly said, "You need to focus more on your health if you want to get better." As if she didn't know Ed didn't give two shits about his health when something was wrong with Al.

" _Winry_ ," he repeated, putting as much force into his voice as he could.

"Brother-"

"You'll have to tell him sometime," Granny broke in, her voice calm and Ed relaxed a little because if it were serious, she wouldn't sound like that.

"She's right," Winry turned to look at his brother, who shot her and Granny a betrayed look. Ed reached out and snapped his fingers in Al's face.

" _Al_ ," he said, in the same foreful tone he'd used with Winry, and Al folded.

"It's nothing serious," he said, fingers twisting together nervously, "a-and most of the time I'm fine, so don't worry either okay?" and Ed would believe him, except the way he was emphasising it made Ed think the opposite. "It's just - sometimes, it - you know, it gets too much..."

Ed stared at him and, when Al didn't continue, prompted, "What does?"

"Sensations." It was Granny who answered him this time and Ed tried to turn to look at her, too late remembering his chest was broken. He couldn't swallow his whimper at the pain, but when they tried to fuss at him and change the subject, he just stared them down until they gave in. "Sometimes Alphonse's skin becomes so sensitive it's painful," Granny explained. "He lashed out in his pain and knocked you to the floor, resulting in..." she didn't need to finish.

Al was cringing again, looking down at his lap, while Winry's hands flittered between Ed and Al, as if unable to decide where they should go.

It sounded so obvious Ed wished it had occured to him before. Al had been without touch for over four _years_ , of course he was gonna be sensitive. Hell, they didn't know what his body had experienced on the other side of the gate. Would he be haunted by the cold of that other world? Would he feel Truth's fingers skimming his cheeks? And what had Ed been doing, except touching him every moment he could? It had probably built up and then the combination of him and Winry had pushed it over the edge. He should've -

Wait.

"This happened before?" he asked, fists clenching as he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"Don't look so angry," Granny ordered. "You've hardly been with it long enough to have a conversation."

"But..." he wanted to argue that it was Al, his baby brother, and it was his duty to take care of him - especially because he'd been so focused on getting their bodies back he hadn't even considered what would come next. Everything was meant to be perfect, but of course it wouldn't be because life was never perfect. His eyes burned and he bowed his head to hide them behind his bangs even as he choked out, "It's not _fair_."

"No it's not," Winry's voice wobbled and Ed's heart skipped a beat - he really didn't think he could cope with both her and Al crying in one day. "But we're here, Granny and me. We'll always be here, so just -" she reached out. One of her hands held Ed's hand, while her other hand held Al's. "Stay here for months if you need to. Sleep for days if you have to. Don't rush. You have your bodies back - you can finally _rest_ ," she blinked rapidly and begged, "Please, for once, just... rest."

How could he refuse that?"

"Okay," he said softly, heard Al echo him a moment later. Then Ed swallowed, and finally admitted, "So, I kinda need some help lying down again..."

* * *

Between the constant presence of Winry, Granny, the nurses and other visitors, and their bodies demanding rest if they were up for longer than an hour, it wasn’t until breakfast a few days later that they got their first chance alone.

“Brother,” Al said once he’d finished his porridge. It was a good day, Ed noted – he’d managed to not get any on his clothes. “About the Lieutenant…”

“I dunno what happened,” Ed cut straight to it as he looked back down at his own breakfast. He’d been hungry before it arrived, then he’d smelt it and been hit by a wave of nausea (and it had nothing to do with the glass of milk on the tray no matter what Al said).

“Oh.”

Ed sighed, realising he had to give a little more. “It was like… like something took control from inside - it was me speaking, but something else forced it.” He gripped the cutlery more tightly and shuddered a little. “Did you – I mean, you looked at me before I said anything, yeah? So you must’ve felt something.”

“Sort of,” Al frowned. “It was really strange. Um… you know how when you turn a tap, all the water swells up and out? It felt like that, but it wasn’t water, just a lot of -”

“Wrongness.”

“Yeah…” he narrowed his eyes. “Have you felt it before?”

Ed glanced at his brother through his bangs as he admitted, “Whenever I’ve thought about Mustang.” His mind called the memories unbidden, the colonel’s sudden appearance and the desperation, and a wave of wrongness swept through him so hard he gagged, then he whimpered as his ribs flared in pain. He tensed and tried to stay as still as possible, breathing heavily through the waves of pain until they receded a little.

He finally relaxed when the pain returned to a more manageable level and opened eyes he didn’t realise he’d closed to see Al had moved, was now sitting on the edge of Ed’s bed with a hand to his chest and a pained expression.

“I felt it,” Al said with wide-eyes, needing no prompting. “I-I don’t think it was as strong as you, but -” his hand fell away from his chest as he slowly relaxed. “But why…?”

“Bastard’s not even here and he manages to fuck with us,” Ed snarled because getting angry was better than panicking. There had been something familiar lurking underneath, in the way a blank hand had clenched around his heart and throat that he didn’t want to even consider – shouldn’t be possible – so instead he asked, “Who’s still around here?”

“What?” his brother looked thrown by the sudden change.

“I haven’t seen Teacher since that shitty infection,” he said. “Where…?”

Al bit his lip and studied Ed for a moment before answering, “You know Teacher – she’s just as bad with hospitals as you are… so she stayed ‘till she knew you were okay, then went home. But she’s gonna be back in next week to visit! If we’re still here.” Ed snorted and looked first at Al’s body, then his own. Al grimaced. “You never know…”

Ed sank back into his pillows and shut his eyes as exhaustion settled into every limb again. At this rate, they would be stuck here for another month at least.

“Brother…” Of course Al wouldn’t be willing to let it go. “Did you… actually never mind, you probably didn’t, things were pretty crazy so why would even remember -”

“ _Al_ ,” he opened his eyes and looked at his brother who swallowed and pulled his legs up to his chest, peered at Ed over the top of his knees.

“Didyoufeelitbeforeyougaveupyouralchemy?”

It took Ed a few moments to decipher, given how fast his brother had spoken, but then he shivered as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dunked over him. He swallowed and tried to ignore it, instead gave the question genuine consideration because it was logical to ask. It also turned out to be easy to answer, as he thought back over the battles, from that first moment when he’d knelt next to Mustang and heard -

_I don’t know how you can expect to see my condition when it’s this dark in here._

\- and remembered the shock which had left him breathless –

_It’s all dark. It’s black._

\- and the horror mingling with grief as Mustang staggered forward –

_The lights. Where are the lights?!_

\- and knew that those had been natural emotions, and he’d been in control and able to force them aside when the homunculi had started moving because they’d had to. The injustice which gripped his heart and forced his mouth to move was nothing like that.

So, he met Al’s eyes and shook his head mutely and his brother’s shoulders slumped.

A question lingered between them, neither of them willing to voice it but both suspecting they knew the answer. Eventually, Al asked in a voice barely a whisper,

“Do you think it’s… _that_?”

Ed swallowed. “Possibly,” he allowed and tried not to panic at the idea that Truth was coming through his body and taking control. It had never done that before.

“Can you… do alchemy?”

Al stared at him and Ed tried not to weaken under his gaze. He’d not given much thought to losing his alchemy in the weeks since Promised Day, distracted by all their injuries and exhaustion, and he didn’t want to think about it now either. He was at peace with his decision – would _never_ regret it – but thinking about all the things he wouldn’t be able to do anymore was like picking at a scab. He’d rather just move on and _not_ think about it.

“I haven’t tried,” was all he said. Al didn’t say anything, just raised his eyebrows, and the instruction was clear.

Ed looked down at his hands - two flesh hands, one unblemished, the other calloused and scarred – and clenched them into fists, winced at the flare of pain in his left arm, before letting go and clapping together.

Nothing happened.

“You didn’t think of an array,” Al pointed out. Ed snapped a glare at him.

“How the fuck d’you know?” he grumbled, but before his brother could reply he focused on the bed sheet and envisioned the array that would rearrange the materials and make it smaller but thicker. He clapped his hands together and touched.

He didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved when, again, nothing happened.

“Oh…” he looked back at his brother when he made a small, sad noise.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ed said, wanting to get rid of the disappointment on Al’s face. “I chose this, remember? If it meant getting you your body back, I’d give up alchemy a thousand times over.”

“I know, but – that feeling, it was _that_ and I just -” Al’s breath hitched. “I wish -”

Ed pointed a finger at his brother. “Don’t wish,” he ordered. “Whatever the fuck’s going on now’s not gonna change it but if you insist on feeling shitty, you can make it up to me by going out and eating apple pie and snuggling some damn kittens and – and all that other shit you wrote on your list, okay?” Al blinked rapidly and then nodded. Ed let his arm drop and tried to hide his relief as the muscle ached.

“Why do you think it’s happening?” his brother asked, drawing it back to the original topic.

“You just can’t let this go!” Ed groaned.

“I don’t get why you keep trying to!” Al crossed his arms. “Brother, this is _serious -_ ”

“I know!”

“- and no one’s ever given up their gate before! What if that gate’s protection and now it’s gone, you’re exposed to it?” Al’s breathing quickened. “What if – if there’s more beyond there that we saw, and that’s what’s coming through? Or what if it changed its mind and it’s actually really angry that you beat it and -”

“Because I do!” Ed’s shout silenced Al. It also left Ed breathless and coughing, though to both his and Al’s relief there wasn’t any blood, and as he cleared his throat and looked back as his brother, Ed said softer, “I think – you said you felt it, how wrong it was. What if it’s injustice?”

Al bit his lip. “Injustice?”

“Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return,” Ed said. “To obtain -”

“- something of equal value must be lost, I _know_ , but -”

“What did Mustang obtain?”

“Um…” Al frowned. “The ability to transmute without an array. And, all that knowledge…”

“Okay, but did he want it?” Ed pressed. Al shook his head. “Did he activate the transmutation? Sit down and draw the circle?” He paused. “Did he have the chance – someone he loved dying in front of him -” because that story had been passed on in a hushed voice from Fuery, when he’d visited, “- and take it?”

“No,” Al said quietly.

“And what did he lose?” Ed swallowed, knowing Al understood by his downcast expression. “If that’s not injustice, then what is?”

“What are you saying, brother?” Al asked. “You don’t think -” he broke off as Ed nodded slowly.

“I think it wants to make it right, or at least, equivalent…” he said and the injustice which had been simmering under the surface the whole discussion settled down, curled up around his throat to wait patiently. The way Al’s eyes widened suggested he’d felt it too.

“But then… why are _you_ feeling it?” his brother asked. “You gave up your alchemy. You can’t get back there – there’s no connection.”

Ed snorted. “There clearly is,” he pointed out and Al’s cheeks reddened a little. “But that – yeah, I got nothing,” he sighed. “And I _really_ don’t get why you can feel it.”

“I didn’t feel it before either,” Al said. “It’s only since being around you that… well, it’s like I’ve caught something.”

There was no explanation Ed could give that made sense. The only thing he could think of doing was to experiment. Judging by the other day, people who weren’t alchemists didn’t feel it, so the next test would be if a normal alchemist – one who hadn’t seen the Gate – could feel it.

He suggested this to Al, who tilted his head to the side as he thought about it, and then gave a rueful smile.

“Major Armstrong’s still here,” he said. “Shall I ask Granny to get him when she comes?”

Ed sighed. “Maybe it’ll be a good thing,” he said. “With any luck, the ability to heal quickly has been passed down through the Armstrong’s for generations and he can help us get out quick.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds and broke into snickers, much more relaxed now the trepidation which had curled around them since the conversation with Hawkeye was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is a plot beyond how much pain can I make them have in hospital, I swear.


	3. Getting Lost

Armstrong couldn't feel it.

Both Ed and Al weren't sure whether they were relieved or disappointed, but they didn't get much time to think about it because the Major threatened to flood their room in tears unless they did some damage control, and finally they'd reassured him that despite their current appearances, they _were_ on the mend and would only continue getting better. It had helped a little, but then Al had had the great idea to distract Armstrong by requesting he update them on what was happening outside the hospital.

Once they found out, Ed half-wished they hadn't asked.

"I can't believe it," Al whispered once Armstrong had left and they were alone. "Over 40% dead..."

"With the 12% honourably discharged, and the 4% which died in hospital..." Ed swallowed. "That's 56% of Central's military completely wiped out. By _Briggs_."

"I-it can't have only been them," Al wrapped his arms around his knees. "Weren't there - I mean, didn't the homunculi - they must have done something, it couldn't all be..." he fell silent.

"How can none of them be arrested for it?" Ed wondered, unable to stop his lips curling in disgust. "I get all the brass were shitheads, but the soldiers were just following orders right? Hell, even that bastard Colonel was able to use his flames without hurting anyone..." That had come to them from Breda, that Mustang had ordered his team to avoid hurting anyone wherever possible, and to compare it to the Briggs soldiers now...

His brother shivered and then said, "At least he got a promotion."

"The only good thing," Ed snorted, allowing the change of topic because dwelling on the soldiers was just making him sick. "Sounds like they're being handed out like candy though."

"Maybe you'll get one," Al gave him a tiny grin.

"Fuck off," Ed said without heat. "I'm on sick leave or whatever, they can't make me take it - though, hey, d'you think I could get honourably discharged?" He saw Al's confusion and added, "Y'know, 'cause I lost my alchemy. I can't be a State Alchemist anymore, so..." though he felt a bit bad when Al hunched his shoulders and glanced away. "Hey, s'not like I was gonna stay in the military anyway."

"I know! But-"

"But nothing. We'll tell the others congrats when we next see them."

It turned out everyone who'd participated in the Promised Day had been promoted. With most of the brass dead, and two in prison, there were a lot of power vacuums which Grumman filled with people who were loyal to him. So Mustang was now a Brigadier General, Hawkeye had gone up two ranks to Major, Falmon and Breda were now First Lieutenants and Fuery a Warrant Officer. Armstrong had refused his. Which, well, Grumman had been in charge of Eastern Command when Ed was running around doing stupid shit and hadn't once complained about the bills sent his way, so Ed figured he was alright.

"But when will _that_ be?" Al muttered, his back straightening as a frown appeared on his face. "The Lieut - Major Hawkeye never came back, and it's been almost a week, and I really don't like that it's just..." he trailed off and his eyes fell on Ed's neck, where they both could feel the injustice curled up. "What if it decides it's been waiting too long and...?"

Ed sighed and was grateful when his chest twinged only a little rather than a lot. "It won't do that," he squeezed Al's arm and tried to hide the fact he'd been worrying about the same thing. "It wants Mustang, not me."

"If he doesn't come by next Monday I'm going to find him myself," Al said.

"Take Winry," Ed ordered because he didn't want Al collapsing half-way there (and because Winry was pushy enough to get Mustang moving if Al couldn't). As much as Ed didn't want Al to make the trip, it was becoming more and more likely the Colonel was avoiding them for whatever reason. Ed'd go himself if he could, but he could only just walk to the bathroom and back before collapsing in a heap (and the worst part was how proud he felt being able to do even that).

In the end, it turned out Al didn't need to go after all because on Sunday, Teacher and Sig came back for a visit (and a check-up). They had relieved Granny and Winry - who had been with them every day so far - and helped Ed and Al kick out the pair so they could have a day of rest out in the sunshine.

"Teacher," Al said once they'd got through the obligatory 'how are you feeling' and the doctors had left them be. "There's something we need to ask you."

"Hmm?" Teacher leaned forward and rest her chin on her hand with narrowed eyes.

"It's about the Col - I mean, Brigadier General," Al corrected. Ed sympathised; Brigadier General Bastard was much harder to say than Colonel Bastard.

Teacher's eyes flickered between them. "Why are you asking me and not him?"

Rather than explaining, Al just looked at Ed. Ed rolled his eyes but obeyed the silent request; he thought back to that heart-stopping moment in the tunnels, the panic when Al wouldn't wake, the surprise when Mustang appeared, and like clockwork the injustice swelled up around his throat and heart, almost choking him. Ed struggled to control his breathing while Al made a gagging sound, and then they were both distracted by Teacher making a pained noise and doubling over, hands clutching at her stomach.

"Teacher!" Ed and Al exclaimed, all thoughts of Mustang forgotten so the injustice released its grip and curled back around Ed's neck.

"Izumi!" Sig said and pulled her close.

"What was that?!" Izumi glared at the brothers as she leant against Sig, her hands still pressed to her stomach, and Al looked at Ed again. Ed pulled a face back because of the two of them, Al was currently the most capable of taking a hit, and Al pouted but turned back to Teacher.

Once he'd explained what had been happening over the weeks, Teacher stared at them for a long moment before leaping to her feet. Ed saw his brother flinch slightly, barely managed to suppress his own, but she just said,

"Wait here," and then gestured to the door. "Sig!"

They both left the room and, as Ed and Al stared at the open door in shock, shouts of surprise and fear echoed through, presumably from people left traumatised in her wake. There was nothing they could do though, so they did as they were told and waited until, nearly quarter of an hour later, Ed felt the injustice stir around his neck for no apparent reason.

"Al," he said, tensing up, and Al turned to him.

A pulse of energy shot through Ed, making him seize up, and he let out a pained grunt when his body fell back against the bed and his bruised ribs ached. "Brother!" Al exclaimed, as another pulse ripped through Ed's body and he arched again, writhed and tried not to scream when it released him. "What -" Al looked distraught, arms reached out towards Ed but unsure where they should go. Ed lunged out and grabbed a hand and the pain eased. Ed took the moment to catch his breath, but when the next pulse came both he and Al cried out, and then Ed swore. He hadn't fought through it, he'd just shared it.

Before he could pull his hand away, there was a commotion out in the hallway. The injustice around Ed's throat leapt up and suddenly Ed got it.

"The Colonel," he gasped and turned to the door. Now they were paying attention, they were able to make out -

"Unhand me!" That was definitely Mustang, though Ed had never heard him sound so scared before. "You're assaulting an -"

"Oh shut up and man up!"

Then they burst into the room, Teacher with a hand gripped to the front of Mustang's hospital gown, while Sig carried the man under his shoulders. The sight of Mustang both soothed the pulsing and agitated the injustice, but all Ed could think was how shit the Colonel looked - thin, frail and unshaven, with unwashed hair - until he caught sight of Mustang's sightless eyes.

Then he clapped a hand to his mouth, to help fight back against the nausea that had welled up inside him.

"Sir!" Hawkeye appeared a few seconds later and pointed her gun at Teacher as she commanded, "Let him go!"

Teacher scoffed at her even as her hand clutched at her stomach. "It's for his own good," she said through gritted teeth, and she and Sig dropped Mustang in the chair next to the brothers. Mustang was still for a few moments before letting out a gasp of pain and both hands flew up to touch his head, just above his eyes.

If they’d needed anymore proof that whatever it was holding Ed hostage was to do with the Gate, they’d just got it.

"But-" Hawkeye paused and clearly took in the scene, and lowered her gun to the ground when she met Ed's eyes. She pinned him with a stare, said, "He was going to come-" and then she broke off, her eyes widening, "Are you okay?" She took in the scene again and her voice went a touch higher, "What is going on here?!"

Ed grunted because he wasn't sure he could say anything, not when the injustice was clawing at his insides, demanding to be free.

"Fullmetal?" Mustang asked as he moved one hand away from his forehead and - jeez, even his voice was pathetic, to match his pathetic appearance.

"Been awhile bastard," Ed forced through gritted teeth and swallowed when Mustang's sightless eyes turned and settled a little too much to the left. "How you doing?"

"Edward," Teacher cut in and moved forward. "Stop fighting it, it's hurting all of us," she winced again. Ed didn't want to - he half-feared his chest would explode if he gave it free reign, but -

"What is that?" Mustang demanded but it was a shadow of his former self, shaky and weak -

"The reason we've wanted to see you," Al said and turned to Ed, "What do we do now?"

"Alphonse?" the bastard gasped while Ed swallowed, because he had no clue, but then his body moved against its will, pain exploding everywhere as he moved too fast, everything jerking like a puppet on strings, and he was dragged over to Mustang.

"Edward," Teacher said with a note of warning.

"It's not me!" Ed managed to gasp out before his hands reached out and covered Mustang's, pulled them away from the eyes enough to clap them together -

\- and everything went white.

* * *

He was at the Gate.

Ed's heart raced as he met the familiar shape's grin. He'd hoped, by getting rid of his Gate, he'd never have to see it again, but here he was barely a month later, in the same damn position. He couldn't help looking down at the flesh leg it wore, before the gold behind it caught his eye and his eyes widened as he took in the sight of a Gate.

It couldn't be his, so it must be -

"Fullmetal?!" Mustang shouted, sounding more panicked than Ed had ever heard him. "Lieutenant!"

The voice came from behind, so Ed spun around and spotted Mustang hugging himself, eyes darting wildly all around. Ed swallowed when he realised Mustang was still blind and wondered how terrifying it must be to be brought somewhere like this and not even be able to see shit - "HELLO?!"

"Colonel!" Ed darted forward, briefly regretting he couldn't spend a few seconds to enjoy moving without pain, and, when he was in front of Mustang, said, "I'm gonna touch your arm." Mustang nodded jerkily, so Ed reached out and gripped the right one, just below the elbow.

"Where are we?"

"You are with me, Alchemist," Truth answered from behind them and Ed got a front-row seat of what it looked like when Mustang's face crumpled into despair. "Welcome back."

"No it can't be..." he moaned and sank down on his knees, forcing Ed to let go otherwise he'd have followed him down. "Not again, not this..." he bent over, barely catching himself on his arms, and Ed could only stare in horror at Mustang practically pleading in front of him, because it was nothing like the fantasies he'd had when he was younger, of Mustang grovelling and acknowledging his greatness, nothing except -

"Fuck fuck _fuck_ ," Ed swore as he realised Mustang had just been forced here for the second time, and by _Ed_ 's hand.

He, Al and Teacher... they'd all known they were breaking the taboo and done it anyway. Every time Ed had been here since, he'd been here by choice. But Mustang...

"It's gonna be okay Mustang," he said and knelt in front of Mustang and reached out a hand to reassure him, only to hesitate because _shit_ , he'd never had to comfort the bastard before, didn't know the first thing how -

"Fullmetal?" Mustang gasped and Ed cringed at how much misery there was. "Why... are you here?"

"No," Ed said, deciding _fuck it,_ and leant forward to put an arm around Mustang's shoulders, pressed the bastard's face into his collarbone, because he knew better than most the power of physical contact in this place. It was uncomfortable and weird as hell, and something in Ed's chest ached when he realised Mustang was shaking underneath him, and the idea that this place had brought Mustang so low - Mustang, whose pride was probably bigger than all of Amestris - made him snarl and look over his shoulder to glare at Truth.

He did a double-take instead because Truth had changed to someone taller. Ed's leg was gone and instead, two familiar black eyes glinted with amusement that Ed was used to seeing behind a desk, and it hit Ed like he was punched in the gut. He swallowed back bile, looked back down at Mustang and said, because he couldn't bear it anymore, "You gotta get up."

Mustang didn't move.

"C'mon Mustang," Ed pulled away to grip Mustang's shoulders and meet those blank eyes. "You can't just sit here."

"It's too much," Mustang whispered. "I can't do it anymore."

"Can't do what?"

"Everything," and Ed wanted to scream, to shout, when he saw tears at the corner of Mustang's eyes. "Without my sight - and now I'm here _again -_ " he broke off and buried his face in his hands. "Just go Fullmetal."

Ed bit back the urge to laugh hysterically. "Dunno if you got it yet, but there's nowhere to _go_." He glanced over his shoulder again at Truth, but it seemed content to just watch and wait. "You gotta get up. I'll even help," he grabbed one of Mustang's arms and pulled it over his shoulder, only for Mustang to finally tense and pull back, a hint of anger overcoming the grief.

"Didn't you hear me?" Mustang said. "I can't - but you -"

"You're shitting me, right?" Ed said. Mustang cut himself off. Ed felt dizzy as he continued, "We had a _deal_. I don't just borrow money from any fucker, Al would kill me if-"

"I can't do any of it blind!" and finally, _finally_ , there was anger. "Who would support a blind Fuhrer?!"

Ed shoved at his shoulders and Mustang went sprawling on his back, mouth falling open as Ed shouted, "Who would turn up on two kids' doorstep and say to the one missing two limbs they could join the fucking military?!" He breathed heavily and reached out, grabbed Mustang's hand and put it on his right arm. "Do you feel that? That's my _right_ arm. It's not fucking steel anymore. Out there - did you hear Al? How clear his voice was?" his voice broke and he stopped before he said anything else.

Mustang's grip tightened. "But you could still _see_ \- you knew where to go, and -"

That garnered a laugh tinged with bitterness before Ed could swallow it. "We didn't have a fucking clue, but then some bastard colonel gave us a path to follow," and he'd never really considered it before, but it was pure truth - could only be in this place.

"I -"

"Do you have two legs?" Ed demanded, before Mustang could throw more protests at him. "Do you have two arms? Do you have a mouth?"

"What's-?" Mustang looked so confused.

"You can still touch," Ed continued. "That's more than Al had. You can still speak - hell you already run circles around everyone, you manipulative asshole, and you know what else? You can still fucking _walk_ , which is more than I could, so I don't see what you're complaining about."

Mustang was silent for a long moment before he admitted, so softly Ed struggled to hear, "I don't know how to start again."

Here, finally, was a Mustang who'd put aside his pride and Ed was so fucking relieved he felt his own eyes burning, but he managed to keep his voice steady as he said, "You just put one foot in front of the other."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Because it _is_ ," Ed said. "And I'll help you - hell, we'll all fucking help you - but you gotta stand on your own two feet first. You gotta save yourself." And Mustang, thank _fuck_ , finally seemed to get himself together, and sat back on his heels. Then, with a swallow, he put his hands out in front of him again but this time it was for support as he shifted, moved his feet underneath him. He took a deep breath and then slowly, shakily, his hands left the ground as he stood up. His legs trembled and Ed reached out to help him, but then something grabbed his arm.

He jumped and half-turned to see Truth holding him, but watching Mustang. The grin was gone, so was the amusement, but there was an emotion in its eyes that Ed didn't recognise. He got the message though and turned back, tried to ignore the tight grip which left tiny pinpricks in its wake, just as Mustang straightened and stood tall, finally looking like Ed remembered.

"One foot in front of the other," Mustang said.

"Yeah," Ed replied, his heart beating so fast he worried it would give out, and watched as Mustang took a shaky step forward, and another, and another. Ed swallowed past the lump in his throat and rubbed at an unexpected burning in his eyes. Then Mustang stumbled. Truth released its grip and Ed took that as permission to run forward and put Mustang's arm around his shoulders. "I got ya," he said.

"So I see," Mustang murmured and stilled. Ed tensed, fearing a relapse, but then... "Have you grown taller?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ed was sorely tempted to abandon Mustang, but the anguished expression flashed across his mind and he just snarled and called him several names, only to cut off in surprise when Mustang actually _laughed_ , "Oh sure laugh it up you _ass_ -"

"Congratulations," Truth said, interrupting the moment, and Ed felt Mustang tense.

"Still here then," Mustang said.

"Told you there was nowhere to go," Ed pointed out and looked back at Truth. It was easier to look into those eyes when the real Mustang was pressed against him, weak but getting stronger every second. "So. What now?"

"Now?" Truth replied and tilted its head.

"You called us here for a reason," Mustang said and Ed felt a tension drain out of him at the familiar confident tone. "Well?"

"I called for you, alchemist," Truth replied. "You were not meant to follow, human who beat me."

Ed scowled. "You fucking took _control_ , like I had a fucking choice -"

"You were my conduit," it replied. "In your terms - you were part of my array, but not the centre."

"Then send him back," Mustang said and Ed's head snapped up to him in surprise. "He's sacrificed enough."

Truth spread its arms out wide. "I didn't need sacrifices," it said. "I needed equivalence."

"Needed?" Ed stared, because that sounded... "Wait. What the fuck did you take?!" he twisted, cast a look over Mustang again, tried to spot what would be missing, and it ached that this was the second time he'd had to do this. Then Mustang gasped and Ed bit back a swear and prepared himself not to flinch whatever it was, whatever words would come out of Mustang's mouth this time -

"It's so _white_ ," the other man breathed.

Ed pulled away, let Mustang's arm drop down as he stared at those eyes, finally _finally_ no longer blank, but blinking and watering and squinting in the light of Truth.

"I don't get it," Ed spun back to look at Truth and ran a hand through his hair, tugged lightly because the pain helped centre him. "I don't - I - _why_?"

"The price was paid for me to take too much from you," Truth said as it watched Mustang. "That was equivalent, despite what you consider to be unfair. It is also equivalent to give you a chance to get it back." It grinned. "You passed."

"What?" Mustang pressed a hand to his head, half-covering a frown. "It - was a test?"

"No power can save you or damn you or curse you," it said. "You can only save yourself. You learnt this, human, so only you could give that same chance to others," it turned to Ed, who finally  _got_ it and glanced at Mustang, couldn't stop the grin when Mustang actually looked _back_ , seemingly torn between happiness and confusion and helplessness at the whole situation. "But I will take my knowledge back," it added, turning back to Mustang. "You will be as you were."

Mustang's gate opened behind Truth and Ed swore and stumbled back as the familiar black hands reached out, but they only went for Mustang. They wrapped around him and tugged him forward, heedless of Mustang's shouted,

"Wait - but _Fullmetal -_ " And the man fought, managing to hold off the hands enough to turn and meet Ed's eyes. "Fullmetal!" he shouted as he was pulled through the gates and then the doors shut behind him. Ed had to shake himself as he remembered another time, when he'd fought against the hands to an Al who'd been watching, and he smiled as the gate disappeared because the pressure that had been around his neck was gone too. Hopefully the bastard would be waking up with his sight restored and could stop dwelling in misery, maybe even have a shower -

"Oh, shit, I'm still here," he said, realising he hadn't gone back with Mustang.

"Indeed," Truth grinned. "A human without a gate has never come here before."

"Uh." Ed blinked a few times. "That's - couldn't I have just... gone with the bastard?" he gestured where the gate used to be. "We came together, didn't we?"

"That connection was broken the moment you arrived," Truth said and walked closer, halting in front of Ed. "You should never have been able to come here."

Ed crossed his arms over his chest. "So what, you fucked up?"

Truth hummed and reached out to press Ed's chest, just above his heart. "No human has beaten me before, but you did. Now you stand before me, without powers and yet..." the hand pressed down harder. "Perhaps... born of a philosopher's stone and a human mother; you and your brother both..."

"The fuck does that matter? Just send me home already!"

"You can't go home right now," Truth grinned. "You're stuck here with me. That is true, too."

Well, fuck.


	4. Losing Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened. 
> 
> Poor babies. T_T

"What am I supposed to do?" Ed stared up at the blank white nothing above. He'd call it a ceiling, but he suspected it didn't have an end.

"What do you wish to do?"

He twisted so he could shoot Truth a disbelieving look. "Are you being serious or...?" Its grin didn't change, so Ed sighed and rolled onto his stomach to stare at Truth instead of the ceiling. Although now he had the time to appreciate lying around without pain, he didn't actually want it. "What can I do?"

Truth hummed and then said, "Nothing."

"Fuck off."

"You admitted yourself; you're just a simple human who couldn't save a little girl, not even with alchemy." Truth spread its hands out in front of it. "If you couldn't do that, how can you save yourself?"

Ed frowned. "But aren't you all about saving yourself? You just let that bastard -"

"He was an alchemist," Truth snarled. The grin was gone, replaced by a blankness even more terrifying, and Ed actually found himself suppressing tremors under the wave of loathing radiating from Truth. "Alchemists borrow a power that doesn't belong to them; they go beyond their place." And in the next second, the loathing cut out and the grin was back. "But you gave it all up. You were the first alchemist to do so. You are _... unknown._ "

"I can't be the only one to give that shit up," Ed clenched his fists and conquered the fear that had nearly overwhelmed him. He truly hadn't thought giving up his alchemy was that big of a deal, not when it gave him back his brother. 

Truth tilted its head to the side. "Why not?" It shrugged and then added with a careless laugh, "Of course, few who've been have left here alive; fewer still have returned twice. Perhaps they just never had the chance."

Ed didn't want to think about that - knew he'd been lucky to escape this place before, knew he'd pressed his luck again and again with each subsequent return, but...

"I can't just sit here and do nothing," he said. What must Al be thinking?

"It is all you can do, _human_ ," Truth replied. Ed groaned in frustration and slammed a fist down on the ground.

* * *

"How could you?"

His chest shuddered and caught on something deep inside.

"How _could_ you?"

His shoulders shook all the way down his arms to his hands - or were his hands shaking so hard they shook his shoulders?

"How could you just... leave him there?"

His mouth felt dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he forced out the words.

Mustang was out of the chair and standing next to the bed. He looked awful, but he also _looked;_ his eyes kept roaming all over, taking in what he'd probably thought he'd never see again.

Alphonse was happy for him. He knew how it felt. He wanted to tell Mustang not to worry if the light sometimes got too much, or if he felt tingling as the nerves reconnected, or if sometimes it hurt so much for no apparent reason, but it was smothered under something so strong it left him stunned and breathless.

"Alphonse..."

He shook off Winry's gentle touch on his arm and didn't, couldn't, look away from Mustang.

"You know how much we've -" Alphonse paused because that didn't sound right and tried a different way. "You _know_ how hard it's -" Strange, that didn't feel right either. He licked his lips and felt the splits with his tongue.

"I'm sorry," Mustang said and bowed his head. Alphonse continued staring and wondered why the Brigadier General couldn't meet his eyes.

"You're sorry," he repeated and it sounded like a question.

"Fullmetal helped get my sight back and I... I repaid him by leaving him behind." Mustang still didn't look up.

"He doesn't have alchemy anymore," Alphonse reminded and just saying it made his chest ache, but Mustang needed to understand. "Do you know what that means?"

"I-"

"He can't come _back_. He has no protection." He knew, from his own time there, his Gate had protected him, stopped him from wasting away, so to be there without one... "If he stays there too long, he'll _die_."

"Alphonse," Granny placed her hand on his lower back. Her hand was small but firm and it pressed into his muscles. Was it meant to be reassuring or a warning?

"Don't touch me," he said, gently pushing her away. When she tried to resist, he got off the bed entirely. He couldn't let any of them touch him; he needed to rescue his brother because he'd been stupid enough to get left behind with Truth.

A stupidity aided by the man in front of him.

"You-" he started again, but then his view of Mustang was blocked by Hawkeye. "Lieutenant," he greeted. "Please move."

"Sir," she said, never looking away from Alphonse but clearly addressing Mustang. "Perhaps you should leave."

"Major..." Mustang's tone was reluctant.

"He can't leave. I'm not done with him." Alphonse stared at Hawkeye. How could she suggest that? The man was his last link to his brother. They'd been together when they'd left; there must have been a connection then, so they just needed to get it back and Ed could come home.

"You're not thinking straight," she said and there was an emotion he couldn't identify. "It was not the Brigadier General's fault -"

"Not his fault?" Alphonse interrupted. He saw her shoulders tense, heard a few inhaled breaths behind him, and wondered what had caused it. "Not... his fault?" The strange emotion which had suffocated everything else burnt away in a split second, replaced by an anger so fierce he was helpless against it. He lunged around Hawkeye, tried to grab Mustang as he shouted, "He _left_ him there!"

"Alphonse!"

"Stop!"

"AL!"

Hands grabbed at his back, his arms, and then two arms circled around him, pinned his arms down to his sides and pulled him back against a strong chest. Part of him recognised Sig, recognised the aftershave and the tickle of hair on his arms, but that part was forgotten by the scream of frustration that escaped his chest as he tried with all his might to break free.

"Let me go let me go _letmego_ -"

"Alphonse!" Teacher was in front of him now, her hands on his shoulders and as fierce a look he'd ever seen on her face. Her grip was strong and he could feel the press of every finger on his bones.

He wasn't scared.

"We were - we were getting better! We were gonna go home!" he shrieked, willed her to understand and he saw her face twist from some emotion. _Good_. "We were meant to be okay! But he - he _took that away_ from us!"

"You know very well he didn't!" Teacher snapped back. "You need to stop and _think_ Alphonse, or -"

"Think? Brother is gone! How can I think about anything else?!" It ripped out of him and somehow saying made it more real. He gasped as the room went dizzy and his stupid weak legs collapsed, so he was only held up by Sig's arms. "It's meant to be _over_ but he's _gone_ , brother's gone, how could he leave me?" He gulped for air and it came out as a sob. He bit his lip to stop anymore coming out and then, after a spark of pain, tasted metallic in his mouth.

“Alphonse -”

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" He didn't care about the way Mustang flinched or the pinched look in Hawkeye's eyes as she took his arm and dragged him out the room.

As soon as Mustang was out of sight, all the energy seemed to drain out of him. He couldn't hold back the sobs, gasped so hard for air his chest throbbed, and barely felt it when Sig put him back on the bed or when Winry threw her arms around him. All he focused on, through blurry vision, were the sheets where Ed had been laying not so long ago and in seconds he'd reached out and pulled them close, breathed in the smell. He didn't care about the sweat or the faint traces of metal and oil because underneath was the smell of _home_ , of, "Brother..." he doubled over and buried his face in the sheets.

Another pair of arms wrapped around his waist from the other side and he knew from the smell of ash that it was Granny. He closed his eyes and wished he were five years old again, crying because he'd cut his knee, and started to lean into her comfort as it was just as soft as he remembered and then -

It was too much.

"Get off me!" He slapped at their arms around him, dug in too deep as he ripped them away, and scrambled back until he was pressed against the headboard because he'd barely been coping with the stuffy nose and itchy eyes and swollen throat, and now his skin was tingling all over in a way that had become frustratingly familiar in the past few weeks. "Don't -" he flinched away from their hands.

"Alphonse -" Winry tried and she sounded so _hurt,_ but Al just wrapped his arms around his own waist and closed his eyes.

"It hurts -" he got out just before his skin lit up and then he screamed. He'd never been on fire but he was willing to bet this was what it felt like. He curled up into a ball and tried to reduce the amount of skin in contact with anything, covered his ears when everyone shouted his name because they were just too loud. Couldn't they see how much it hurt him? "Stop it," he begged, the burn on the outside rapidly turning inwards and it hurt so _much_ , and all he wanted - all he needed - "Please, brother, make it stop..."

* * *

“The fuck?”

Ed held out his arms in front of him. They'd started tingling - not painfully, but enough to be uncomfortable. Even worse, once he'd focused on it it started to spread and soon he was tingling all over, and it was the weirdest feeling ever. He fought the urge to scratch at whatever skin he could.

"Interesting," Truth said as it settled cross-legged in front of him.

" _What?"_

"You're feeling your brother's pain. When he was here, he couldn't feel yours."

Several questions crowded Ed's brain, but the most important... "Al's hurt?"

"It seems so," Truth grinned because it was a shitty bastard like that. "Do you want to do something about it?"

"Is that - you -" Ed stared. "Yes. Stop it. Can I?"

"Perhaps. The connection between you is strong; I wonder what will happen if you focus on it." Which had to be both the most helpful thing it had said in the entire time Ed had been there and the least helpful.

"How the fuck do I do that?" he asked. Truth shrugged. "Why are you so freaking useless!?" Ed growled and was tempted to pull his hair out in frustration when Truth just _laughed_. "Fine, whatever." He shut his eyes and focused on the tingling because that was the only clue to this supposed connection currently available. After a few seconds, the tingling grew into a strong pain all over, like tiny needles piercing his skin and _jeez_ he wished he hadn't thought that because it was a horrible, horrible mental image -

_Please brother, make it stop..._

"Al?" he gasped and reached out, but his hands only met air. He gritted his teeth, screwed his eyes shut and focused on his brother with all his might as he shouted, "Al! I'm here! Alphonse!"

* * *

_Alphonse!_

"Brother!"

Alphonse's eyes snapped open as the pain eased from an encompassing burn to a slow ember. His brother's voice echoed around his head and he frantically looked around the room, but couldn't see him anywhere. "Brother?" he called again. He hadn't imagined it - he couldn't have!

"He - he's not here Al," Winry said and Alphonse looked at her. Her eyes were swollen and her nose was red, but her mouth was set in a determined grimace. "The doctor's coming though, okay?"

"Doctor?"

"To help you with the pain," she explained.

"I don't - I don't need it," he blinked and turned to look at Granny. "Tell them I don't need it."

She just shook her head slowly. "You need to calm down -"

"I - I'm calm, I'm okay," Alphonse said and wondered why his heart was beating so fast. "The pain's less, I think - I heard Brother, he called out to me -" he broke off when both Granny and Winry's faces fell and they turned away. "What? What's wrong?" He looked beyond them to Teacher and Sig. He couldn't make out Sig's expression, but Teacher looked furious. "What?!"

The door opened then and the doctor came in, followed by a nurse who wheeled in a table with needles on.

"No," Alphonse whispered. He didn't want to take them - the last time it had dulled everything to the point he couldn't tell what they were and it was like being back in armour, he couldn't do it again. "No!" he repeated louder while the doctor spoke quietly with Teacher as the nurse prepared everything.

He was so focused on the table, he didn't notice Sig moving behind him until it was too late. The man grabbed his arms and held tight. The skin where he touched exploded in pain and Alphonse couldn't stop a moan from escaping. He could tell by the looks exchanged that they thought it was only proof he needed the drug and maybe, before, he did but this time he'd shared the pain with his brother and it was okay, it was manageable now, so he shouted,

"Wait, please!" and tried to pull away, but Sig was like an immovable stone. "I don't need it! I'm okay!"

"Please Al," Winry begged from where she was being held by Granny. "Don't make it harder!"

"You're the ones making it hard! Please, listen to me!" he screamed back, unable to take his eyes off the approaching nurse, and he regretted every single time he'd made fun of Ed and his needle phobia; sitting there unable to escape while the nurse cleansed a small part of his arm and then injected the drug was one of the most terrifying things he'd experienced.

Alphonse slumped against the headrest as the nurse moved away, taking the needle with her, and Sig released his arm. He looked down at his lap, saw the tiny well of blood trickle out his arm where the needle had been, and shut his eyes when they started to burn again. There was a painful lump in his throat but he wouldn't make a noise, didn't want to give any of the people around him that satisfaction. They hadn't listened to him, had drugged him against his will -

"Brother," he whispered and pulled his legs to his chest, buried his face in his arms as the drug started to kick in. It felt like a blanket had been placed over everything, dulling it to the point where he couldn't even hear his own ragged breathing and yet, despite that, tears managed to escape and make his arms and cheeks sticky.

Ed never would have let it happen, but he also wasn't there to stop it.

"Brother..."

* * *

There was nothing to indicate how much time had passed.

"Damn it!" Ed exclaimed and stopped pacing to turn and glare at Truth. "Can't you tell me anything?!" It was hard not to freak out when he hadn't heard anything else from Al; the sensations had faded as quickly as they'd come. Truth just stared back and Ed growled. "At least tell me he's alive!" He prayed the feelings had gone away because Al was no longer in pain, not because he'd died.

"He is alive," Truth finally admitted and all the tension which had built up in Ed escaped in a sigh.

He eased himself back on the ground, trying to ignore how unsteady all his limbs were, and then stretched his legs out in front of him. He stared at the automail leg and then, because he needed a distraction or he'd go mad, he looked back at Truth. "Why've I got my leg here?"

"Why wouldn't you have it?" Truth asked as it settled into an identical pose. Ed shook his head.

"You seriously have nothing better to do than copy me, do you?" he muttered and then, before Truth could say a word, explained, "My automail leg. It's not attached, uh... back there," he gestured around them, not sure how he should refer to the world outside here. "But it is here."

"That leg is your leg." Truth shrugged. "Would you prefer it gone?"

"I - no no no, pretend I said nothing," Ed hastily backed away from that topic because he didn't want to chance Truth taking it away just to prove a point. There was no way he was going to be stuck here and be incapable of walking.

Truth laughed and leant forward. "You interest me, human who beat me," it said. "No one has been stuck here before."

Ed blinked. "But - what about Al?"

"He was never stuck," Truth grinned. "He could go home so long as the right price was paid."

Wait.

That meant -

"Even if Al did what I did, gave up his alchemy, I wouldn't be able to leave?" Ed narrowed his eyes at Truth.

"If he did that, neither of you could," Truth said. Ed's eyes widened. "I said you left through the back door, didn't I? Take away that and what are you left with?"

"Then -" he took a deep breath, tried to keep the hysteria down, and asked, "What'll Al have to give up, to get me out?"

"Who knows?" Truth fucking _cackled_ and rocked back as Ed stared in horror. "Isn't that exciting?"

"Al..." Ed whispered, closed his eyes and prayed his brother never came.

Then, there was a whisper behind him. He twisted around, but there was just endless nothing. Figuring he'd imagined it, he turned back to Truth and opened his mouth to speak when he heard another whisper, this time off to his right. His head snapped towards it, but again there was nothing there. He snapped back to look at Truth.

"What the fuck's that?" he demanded.

Truth grinned. "What's what?"

"Don't play games with me!" he tensed even more at another whisper, this time to his left, but there was still nothing to be seen. "These damn whispers!"

"Hmm..." Truth leapt to its feet. "It took long enough. I thought it would have happened before now." It studied Ed. "It seems you've managed to build up a resistance to this place. I'm impressed."

"Get to the point already!"

Truth spread its arms out and spun around as it said, "I am One and All, the interconnection of everything there is and all that you are."

Ed stared. "I didn't ask about you dumbass, I asked about -" he shivered as a whisper tickled his ear.

"But that is I," Truth turned back around to him. "In this place, that is also you." It must've seen Ed's confused frown because it sighed and dropped its arms. "You never asked why a mere human without a Gate hasn't been here before." It shook its head, like it was fucking disappointed. "Were you scared? Don't be ashamed, to fear is to be human. Didn't we agree that's what you are?"

He opened his mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. He _was_ scared, deep down, and in this place of Truth he could no more deny that than his own name. Scared of never leaving, scared of leaving Al behind, scared of what Al would give up to get him back...

"Those whispers are the worlds we are all connected to," Truth continued. "That you hear them means you're becoming part of them again."

Ed considered those words carefully and said, a little hesitant, "That sounds like a good thing."

"Is it?"

"I'm just one insignificant piece connected to a much greater whole," Ed felt obliged to explain what he'd learnt from Teacher so long ago. Truth just stared at him and he swallowed, wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his trousers. "If I'm becoming part of the worlds again... doesn't that mean I'm going home?"

"In one sense," Truth hummed.

And that - that was worrying, was the reason why, instead of relaxing, there was a buzzing underneath his skin.

"But I haven't been here for as long as Al was," he continued, speaking slowly because his mind raced ahead, trying to make the connections. "And Al never became 'part of them again' or whatever, so why am I - _oh_..." Ed's breath caught.

_What if that gate’s protection and now it’s gone, you’re exposed to it?_

Al's voice echoed in his head.

"Eureka," Truth hissed in glee.

Ed stared down at his hands. If he stayed here for much longer he would start to fade away, become part of the world as he'd agreed he was when he gave up his gate. He would escape from here, would go home, but it wouldn't be as Edward Elric. He looked back at Truth who settled back down into a cross-legged position and smirked up at him.

"I wonder if your brother will come before it's too late," it said.

"He'll come." Ed said, his belief in his brother settling in like a cloak around his shoulders. "And you know what? Colonel Bastard does that smug smirk a hell of a lot better."

Finally, he got a bit of satisfaction when the smirk disappeared and it was enough to keep him together when the whispers started up again in earnest.


	5. Equivalent Exchange

When Alphonse finally lifted his head, he was alone and it was evening.

He scrubbed at his cheeks and eyes to get rid of the crust from sleeping and squinted to make out the shapes in the room. Nothing seemed to have changed so he turned his attention to the noises outside the room. He knew from experience the nurses were on night-time patrol, but he could also make out a faint conversation just outside the room. He got off the bed and crept over to the door to eavesdrop - well, that was what he intended to do, but half-way across the room a shiver went down his spine and he froze.

Something didn't feel right.

Rubbing at his arms to give them some warmth didn't seem to help; the longer he stood there, the stronger the feeling got. His heart started to pound in his chest and he was distracted for a few seconds, unable to help marvelling at how loud it was.

"Ah!" he flinched when pain suddenly stabbed through his chest and bent forward instinctively, his hands moving to press against his ribs. He gasped when there was another sharp pain, more to the left than the centre. "N-not good..." he shut his eyes as he realised where the pain was coming from.

Something was wrong with his heart.

He forced his body forward, closer towards the door, in the hopes of calling for a nurse perhaps, but his balance was off and he tripped and hit the floor instead. Getting up would take too much energy so he lay there on his side, forced himself to take long and slow breaths, and was so focused on making it through the wave of pain that he almost missed the whisper from inside.

_Al..._

"Brother?" he whispered, hardly daring to hope. There was no reply, so he moved his hands away from his chest to cover his ears. He screwed his eyes shut and focused purely on his breathing, in and out, almost to the point of making himself dizzy, and thought as hard as he could, _brother!_ He gasped as a jumbled mesh of feelings washed over him, too fast and too muddled to identify individually but altogether screamed _Edward_ and he knew, in that split second, it wasn't his heart that had the problem - it was Ed's.

His brother didn't have long left.

"Argh! Why did I fall asleep?" he pushed himself upright and stumbled over to the bedside table, pawed through the drawers, but couldn't find anything for an array. "If they hadn't drugged me -" his breath caught. He stilled, his chest heaving as he realised if he didn't save his brother... Granny and Winry and Teacher, they'd _all_ be responsible.

It almost him to his knees again but he couldn't afford to collapse, so he grabbed hold of the bed to stay up but only brought the sheets and pillows down with him.

"No," he croaked as he struggled to untangle himself. "It's not gonna - don't think that, it's not fair, they didn't - didn't _know -"_ he shook his head and freed himself, pulled himself upright with the bedside cabinet. "Writing. Chalk. Where...?" he hunted the room, but ultimately there was nothing he could use.

Another jumble of emotions rushed through him, all of it screaming _Edward_ but it wasn't foreign, his own body welcomed them like they were its own.

Alphonse's eyes widened. He didn't need Mustang - he'd had a connection to his brother ever since they were born, which had only grown stronger after what they'd been through. A connection already proven to reach into that place, having saved his body when it would have wasted away otherwise. He couldn't do the array for human transmutation - that was the one limit on the knowledge gained from Truth, the only alchemy that still needed to be drawn. He didn't have enough time to find a way of doing so.

All he could do was focus on the connection and hope it led to Ed. After all... "If there's not a door," he said as he pressed his hands together, "then make one."

He thought about everything that made up his brother – _his stubbornness; his selflessness; his independence; his wit; his passion_ … - and everything that was their relationship – _devotion and sacrifice and faith_ … - and pressed his hands to his chest right above his heart.

Between one blink and the next he had moved from the quiet hospital room to the realm of Truth; except Truth wasn’t there waiting for him, nor was his Gate. The nothing threatened to swallow him in its unnatural silence, where he couldn’t even hear his own breathing, but he kept his brother in his thoughts and started walking.

Ed hadn’t let anything get in his way, so Al wouldn’t either.

* * *

The world was so clear.

Roy looked around the canteen again. He could see there were six other people, twenty tables, a chef who looked exhausted; he could reach out for his food instead of being told where it was. He could turn and meet Hawkeye’s eyes when she addressed him, read every nuance in the face he knew as well as his own instead of guess from her tone. And yet…

“Sir?” she asked, watching him from the other side of the table.

“I’m fine,” he said, but all he could hear was _you left him there._

“It wasn’t your fault sir,” Hawkeye said. He didn’t reply, just clenched his fork tighter and wished he could remember. There were gaps in his memory – he had no idea how he’d gone from being pinned down to joining the other ‘sacrifices’, or how he’d gone from a terrifying darkness to a flesh and bone Alphonse. It was entirely possible he _had_ sacrificed Fullmetal… “You’re not that kind of person.” He looked back at Hawkeye and wished he could believe her, too.

A commotion in the corridor outside caught their attention. Roy had half-stood up before he’d thought about it and when the doors opened and one of the nurses who’d been tending to Fullmetal and his brother ran in, his heart sank even as he moved to meet her in the middle of the room.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“He’s gone!” the nurse wrung her hands together.

Roy scowled and gestured for her to lead the way, as Hawkeye asked, "Where was the guard?"

"He said he never left his post!" the nurse's voice rose as they half-ran down the corridors to the room the Elrics had been staying in. Roy bit back a curse and left Hawkeye to press further as he considered what could have happened.

If Alphonse had never left the room but also wasn't there, he could only have left through alchemy. Although the brothers didn't need to draw arrays, Mrs Curtis had assured him the kind of arrays Alphonse needed to do _did_ need to be drawn, so while he was sleeping they had emptied the room of anything that could be used. It shouldn't have been possible for Alphonse to just disappear.

As they approached the room, the guard came to attention next to another pair of distraught-looking nurses.

"Report!"

The private licked his lips, his face as pale as the moonlight. "Been here since 1900 sir, never heard anything and didn't see any flashes of light. First thing we knew was when the nurse went in!"

"Then we don't even know when he disappeared?" Roy demanded. The private cringed.

"No sir."

Roy dismissed him with barely a glance and entered the room, Hawkeye close behind. He took in the bedsheets strewn on the floor, the drawers half-opened and one hanging out - Alphonse had clearly gone looking, but both Hawkeye and Mrs Curtis had been thorough. He then did a closer inspection of the room, trying to spot any transmutation circles the boy could have used.

"Perhaps in blood, sir?" Hawkeye suggested as she investigated behind the bed.

"I don't see anything," Roy replied as he moved to the centre of the room and looked up at the ceiling just in case. There was no indication there had been any alchemy performed here. "How is this possible?" How had he let this happen? "Call Mrs Curtis. It's possible she'll have some clue, given -" he faltered for only a split second, but it was enough to make Hawkeye tense, "- I no longer have that knowledge."

"Sir," she replied, an acknowledgement and admonishment all in one. She didn't immediately leave, however, instead asked, "What of the Rockbells?"

Odd, he was unable to meet her eyes.

"It may be best to wait until we know more," he answered.

The silence from her was telling. Eventually, she said with a carefully neutral tone, "When Edward gave up his alchemy, he was gone only a few seconds."

Part of him had already acknowledged it, was assessing the fallout and how best to manage it. Another part of him, the part which had watched Fullmetal punch through every barrier that would have destroyed another person, refused to accept it.

"If I have learnt anything it's to never doubt Fullmetal when it comes to the impossible." He finally found the strength to look her in the eyes. "They'll be back."

Hawkeye nodded and said, "It is quite late, sir, and Ms Rockbell looked rather tired earlier. It can wait until morning."

"Yes," Roy agreed. "Mrs Curtis, on the other hand..."

"I'll send for her."

Only once she'd left the room and he was alone did he let his shoulders slump. He looked to the bed, where only hours earlier Alphonse had been screaming in anguish, and shook his head sharply. He couldn't dwell on that. He reached for the abandoned chair and brought it to the far corner of the room, sat down so he could see every angle and crossed his arms.

"They'll be back," he repeated to the room, making sure to keep his tone as firm as possible. He would stay here and wait for them, however long it took or impossible it seemed.

After all, it was also impossible he'd failed both brothers in one day, but somehow he'd managed it.

* * *

There was no indication he wasn’t doing anything but walking on the spot for so long that Al started to doubt. Only then, without warning or ceremony, was his Gate suddenly there and Truth standing before it.

“You made it, little alchemist,” it said.

Al studied it; it was no longer a reflection of his body, just a faded outline of himself, and, for once, it wasn’t grinning.

“Where is he?” he asked and Truth pointed. Al followed his finger and gasped when he spotted his brother sprawled out on the floor. “Brother!” he ran over and knelt next to Ed, pushed at his side enough to roll him over. He sighed in relief when he saw Ed’s chest rise and fall, then looked at Ed’s face. It was screwed up in pain and there was a sheen of sweat across his forehead. “Brother?” he called but Ed gave no indication he heard. “What did you do to him?!” he demanded of Truth as he pulled Ed onto his lap.

“This wasn’t me,” Truth said. “You know what did; you felt it yourself.”

Al swallowed and pushed Ed’s hair away from his face. It was right of course, it hadn’t needed to do anything. Humans weren’t meant to be here for long periods.

“I have to get him out of here,” he muttered. He didn’t know how long Ed had left but if he’d already lost consciousness…

“And what will you give to do so?” Truth asked. Al glanced up to see it had settled on the other side of Ed’s body, mimicking Al’s knelt pose.

“Anything.”

It grinned. “Even your body? You just got it back after all. Can you really give it up again?”

Al bit his lip and looked at Ed. The idea of giving up touch and smell again was like a nightmare, even worse now he knew what he was missing out on, but… “To you, he’s just one person, but to me…” he ran his thumb across Ed’s forehead. “…he’s the world. Take it,” he looked back up at Truth. “Take whatever you want. I’d give it all and more.”

He could live with anything so long as his brother lived with him.

“Curious,” Truth said and then it stood up and stepped back. Something sparked in Al’s fingers – he gasped and looked down just in time to see the red crackle fade into Ed, and then his brother started shifting.

“Brother!”

“A-Al…?” Ed looked back with half-lidded eyes, though they flew open a second later and Al barely leaned back in time to avoid having his head hit when Ed bolted upright. “Al you idiot!” Ed thumped his thigh, the only part he could reach.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“What was – you know fucking well what for!”

Al reached out and wrapped his arms around Ed’s shoulders, pressed his cheek to his brother’s. Even in this place he was warm and solid, and Al drew strength from that. “I had to come. Did you really -” he paused when he felt Ed start shaking and said slowly, “Brother…?” Ed pulled away, twisted around and his hands reached up to cup Al’s cheeks.

“You really are a dummy…”

Al’s jaw dropped as he realised Ed was crying. “ _Ed_ …” he breathed and his brother looked away, rubbed at his eyes with his arm.

“What did you give up?”

“I…” Al glanced up at Truth but it was just watching. “I don’t know yet, maybe -” he didn’t want to tell Ed they’d discussed his body, so instead he said, “- my alchemy?” To his surprise, Ed’s shoulders slumped.

“You can’t,” he said. Al wanted to protest – if Ed could give it up, why couldn’t he? - but it wasn’t protectiveness in Ed’s tone, it was defeat. “If you do, we’ll both be stuck here forever, or until, well…” he trailed off and shrugged, not meeting Al’s eyes. Al struggled to understand, then something shifted, and he gasped.

“That’s not – true…?” he looked back to Truth.

“It is true,” Truth nodded. “If you wish to leave this place, you must travel through that.” It pointed at Al’s Gate. Al took a deep breath, grabbed Ed’s hands and squeezed them.

“Al?” Ed’s eyes widened.

“It’ll be okay brother,” Al promised as he let go and stood up. He held his head high as he turned to look at Truth and ignored the cursing beside him. “Tell me what you want,” he said, was proud that his voice remained steady even though his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his throat. Ed stood up too, though he immediately swayed and slumped against Al with a low groan, and Al was reminded once more Ed didn’t have much time left.

“Together,” his brother muttered. His hand found Al’s again and squeezed. Al’s heart slowed to a normal pace because _together_ was their promise in this place - no matter what happened after.

Truth stepped forward to stand in front of Al. “To lose your touch once more… that would be a price paid only by those who tried to play God.” It reached out and touched Al’s forehead, and tiny pinpricks sparked under its touch. “You did not do so, little Alchemist. You merely followed a connection forged by a Philosopher's Stone.” 

He felt Ed tense next to him and then hiss, “Hohenheim!”

Al gasped. “But – wait – he said we’re human! He promised!”

“You are human,” Truth grinned, “but you are humans branded by the same stone, born of it and not created. That is a curse you will carry until the day you die.” Its eyes flickered over to Ed and it added, almost as an afterthought, "And a boon for you, alchemist who beat me. You came here because your soul yearns to belong to this place of one and all, has been here too many times for it not to, so it followed the other when he came through." 

There was so much he wanted to know, but Ed’s weight was steadily getting heavier and heavier and there wasn’t enough time, so Al just asked, “What does that mean about leaving?” and hated how small his voice sounded.

Truth finally moved, taking its crushing presence with it. To his surprise it stepped to the side, out of their path to the gate.

“There is nothing to pay,” it said. “I have neither helped you, nor will I keep you here; you did nothing but follow what is natural, so I offer you the same. That is equivalence.” It gave a mocking bow and swept an arm towards the Gate. “You can leave whenever you wish.”

It was hard to believe, but with every step they took that Truth didn’t stop, they moved quicker and quicker. As they approached the Gate it opened once more with the same blinding light, and Ed cursed quietly. Al tightened his grip on him.

“I’ve got you,” he said and then took them through the light.

* * *

"Sir," Hawkeye said, standing by the door. Dawn’s light was slowly creeping through the curtains.

They hadn't come back.

Roy didn't move at first; he remained on the chair, where he'd been all night, and looked down into his empty mug, saw the last few dregs of coffee. He didn't remember getting or drinking it, but clearly he must have. Then he looked to the Major and asked,

"Mrs Curtis?"

After discerning there was no trace of whatever alchemy Alphonse had done, she and her husband had spent much of the night with him. She'd gone into great detail the ways she would inflict pain on them on their return, in turns amusing and alarming him. Meeting her had explained much about the brothers' attitudes towards certain things (such as carrying on with injuries that would have taken out normal people).

"Getting breakfast in the canteen," Hawkeye answered.

"Ah," Roy said and looked around the room again.

They hadn't come back.

"What should we tell the Rockbells?" she asked.

Something in his chest tightened. Life had been almost as cruel to the Rockbells as it had been to the Elrics; being left behind was just as hard as going off to war. Worse, in some ways, for the only news they received was negative, and now the world had dealt another cruel turn to them.

"Call the hotel and tell them to stay there. I'll be there shortly."

"Yes sir," Hawkeye bowed her head and left the room again. Roy wanted to stay, wanted to keep hoping, but the facts were against him.

If they were coming back, they would have returned by now.

He'd stood and thrown his coffee mug at the wall before he'd thought about it. It shattered, shards of glass scattering all over the floor, and he heaved in a lungful of air, held it and slowly breathed out through his nose, pulled his anger back under control. When he no longer felt like he would hit the next thing he saw, he tended to his uniform and pressed out the creases from his watch.

When he felt as composed as he could be, he walked to the door and paused, a hand lingering on the doorframe. He didn't turn around but he waited one long minute, prayed he would hear some sound, but it remained silent.

So he left and let the door close behind him, the truth of his failure dogging him at every step.

They hadn't come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I mean, Hohenheim had to be good for something, right?
> 
> Who can guess where the boys will pop out? If you guess right, you get a cookie.


	6. One Last 'Fuck You'

It turned out the Rockbells weren’t at the hotel.

“Well, where are they?” Roy demanded.

The receptionist looked flustered. “I-I don’t know! They were -” she flicked through some papers on the desk and a few fell off, but she ignored them. A colleague came up and put a hand on her shoulders reassuringly, before turning to Roy.

“Who were you looking for?” he asked, his eyes flickering to Roy’s shoulder and taking in his rank.

“The Rockbells,” Roy replied. “A young girl and her grandmother.”

“Oh!” the man makes a surprised noise. “They checked out a few hours ago.” He turned to his colleague and smiled apologetically. "It happened pretty fast so they must've forgotten to mark it on the paperwork.”

“They checked out?” Hawkeye cut in with raised eyebrows.

“It was rather strange actually,” the man frowned. “There was a call, perhaps around 4 in the morning? After they took it, they soon rushed out with their bags.”

Roy’s heart started pounding. “Did they say where they were going?” he couldn’t quite keep the strain out of his voice.

“To catch the first available train I think,” the man shook his head. “I don’t -”

“Thank you,” Roy interrupted and then turned to Hawkeye. “Do you-?” he cut himself off as she produced a piece of paper with a number on. Roy stared at it, then at her, and thanked the world once more she was his adjunct as he took it and moved to the other side of the lobby, where a public phone was waiting for use.

He picked up the receiver and dialled the number on the paper. It rang, the seconds felt like forever, and then finally someone picked up.

“Hello?” Roy couldn’t speak. He clung to the phone, pressed it against to his ear, and shut his eyes. “Hello?” Alphonse repeated and then, fainter, said, “There’s no one there,” to another person.

“Hang up then!” Fullmetal’s voice was tiny and distorted, but Roy would recognise it anywhere.

“But what if – brother!”

“Well if they'd wanted -” and then the line went dead.

Roy stared at the phone for a long moment, then put it back on the handle and turned to Hawkeye. He didn't say a word, but her shoulders relaxed and she seemed to become years younger. There was even the hint of a smile and, for the first time, Roy could acknowledge she'd been just as worried as him.

“I’ll inform the others sir,” she said. “You should get some rest.”

“That sounds like a fine idea, Major."

* * *

Ed was sitting on the porch, enjoying the warm sunshine and light breeze when he spotted the two figures in the distance. He squinted and then, recognising them through the height difference alone, leaned back on his arms to shout,

“Al! They’re here!”

There was a crash and then Al burst out the front door, a wide grin on his face as his gaze moved from Ed to the country lane. Ed couldn’t have stopped his own grin if he’d tried; the excitement on Al’s face was contagious. He watched as his brother headed down the steps and onto the path, moving much better than he ever had in the hospital, to meet Winry and Granny half-way.

Ed could just make out some faint shouting and Al’s sheepish laugh, carried over on the wind, and his grin softened into a warm smile. Then there was a long hug, broken only when Al pointed back at the house, and his smile froze when he spotted the glint in Winry’s hand.

He just barely managed to duck the wrench.

“Fuck!” he hissed as his ribs from the sudden movement, and shouted, “Oi! I'm still injured!"

"That's nothing compared to what I'll give you!" Winry shouted back. "You're the biggest moron to ever walk this planet!" Another wrench landed a few centimetres from his hand and he pulled back to make himself a smaller target. He stayed tense as Winry stormed down the path, Al and Granny following more sedately behind her, and eyed her hands as she stopped in front of him at the bottom of the steps for any other wrenches.

That was why it took him a few seconds to notice she was crying.

"Shit." His heart sank.

"You idiot," she hiccupped as she joined him on the steps and gave him the gentlest hug he'd ever received from her. "We thought -"

"I know," he murmured into her hair, really meaning _I'm sorry_ , and wrapped an arm around her waist. He shut his eyes as she trembled against his collarbone. "I'm here now."

"But are you going to stay?" she whispered.

Ed forced a grin. "That's up to you, isn't it?" When she pulled back to look him in the eye, her nose screwed up a little in confusion, he gestured down at his leg. Her mouth dropped and then a hand flew up to cover her mouth and nose, though it didn't quite disguise the giggles. It was a little hysterical but Ed didn't hold it against her. "Fucking laugh it up," he sighed as she buried her face back into his shoulder, this time shaking from laughter, and kept one arm around her waist as he turned to look at Granny and Al, who were standing at the bottom of the steps.

"I guess Death didn’t want a stubborn shrimp like you,” Granny said. Her tone was light, but when their eyes met Ed felt all the things she wanted to say.

He still scowled and grumbled, "Wicked hag."

"Well, I suppose we should get you fixed up," Winry said, drying her eyes with her arm, and then she stood. She held out her hand and Ed took it, let her pull him up and then put his arm over her shoulder. "Come on."

Getting up steps with only one leg was a pain in the fucking ass, but between Winry, Al and Granny he managed to hop to the living room and sink gratefully onto a dining chair. All the injuries from the Promised Day shit had come back with a vengeance, made worse by moving around on a crutch the past few days, but he also thought he was healing quicker out in the sunshine with the fresh air than stuck in a hospital bed.

Al had much more energy here as well, given how he'd practically been outside 24/7 and occasionally running back in after experiencing some smell or feeling he'd forgotten about and simply _had_ to share with Ed (which was ridiculously cute, except when it had been cowpatches).

"So then, how did you wind up here?" Granny asked as she settled at her desk and started preparing her pipe. Al settled on the chair next to Ed, dragging it close so he could press up against him, while Winry placed four cups of tea down on the table and sat opposite. "You clearly didn't walk."

Ed and Al glanced at each other. "It's a bit of a long story," Al said.

"Like you're going anywhere for awhile," Winry stared pointedly at Ed's missing leg and so they explained, as best they could to two non-alchemists, what had happened.

Granny frowned once they’d finished and said, “That still doesn’t explain how you came to be here.”

He felt Al tense next to him and hunch his shoulders. Ed glanced at him, taking in the way Al stared down at his mug, and knew it would be up to him to tell the next part. Fine, whatever, it was his duty as the older brother anyway. He took a deep breath and looked back at their family, tried to ignore the way their expressions were slowly changing from confusion to worry as they took in Al's reaction.

"I said we think Al found me 'cause of that shitty stone connection right?" he waited for their nods. "So I figure - we figure - that even if we left through the gate, that connection would've still taken us back - only Al wasn't here, and I wasn't, so it took us to the only other place it could make a connection."

Granny's lips turned down around her pipe as she murmured, "Your mother?" Winry paled a little at that.

Ed's throat tightened but he had to get it out, so he shook his head and said, "Hohenheim."

"He's here?" Granny's eyebrows rose even as she glanced up at the ceiling, as if expecting him to appear at the mention of his name. Winry's fingers had gone white where they gripped her cup too tightly.

Ed nodded, then shook his head, then grimaced at Granny's piercing look. "He-he was there, at mum's grave," he choked out and heard Al's breathing almost cut out. The memories crowded his mind and he forced them away to grit out, "But he wasn't... breathing. He's not - he still looked - _okay_ , I guess 'cause of the stone, but there was all these cracks that -" he cut himself off and coughed to clear his throat a little. "We - we buried him, next to mum, and then came here, and..."

"That's when you called us," Winry finished.

"Yeah."

The girls stared at them in silence. His throat felt too tight to talk anymore, so he distracted himself by tugging on Al's arm until his brother was leaning against his shoulder (and it was ridiculous how soothing Al's warmth was).

"It's never easy for you two," Winry finally said, blinking rapidly but fortunately not crying. "Even when... even when it's over, you still -"

"It's okay Winry," Al looked at her with a forced smile, but it only made Winry explode (rookie mistake; Al should've known better considering he'd seen Ed make it a dozen times).

"It's _not._ You just buried your own father! When you're both still -" she hesitated and studied first Al's body, then Ed's. " _How_ did you? You can barely walk, let alone dig!"

Ed rolled his eyes, because that was an even stupider question, and clapped his hands together to indicate alchemy. He'd expected it to do nothing, but instead there was a tiny spark - a familiar spark, the activation of the alchemic component he'd recognise as well as his own heartbeat. He froze. Al flinched, actually falling off his chair with a startled yelp as he gaped at Ed and ignored Winry's squawking as she hurried around the table.

"Did you...?" Al breathed, his eyes as round as saucers.

"What? What?!" Winry demanded, knelt next to Al. Granny leant forward, peering at Ed.

It was a trick. A lie. One last 'fuck you' from Truth, surely.

"Try again!" his brother pleaded.

Ed didn't know if he had the strength. His heart was pounding so fast he thought it'd explode - because what if it didn't happen again? He couldn't - didn't dare hope - but what if it _did_?

"Ed!"

He glanced at Winry, then his brother, then Granny, and took a deep breath. If it didn't work and it had been imagined and it was truly just lingering 'fuck you' from Truth, he trusted his family to put him back together. He clapped his hands together so softly it barely made a sound, then reached out to the table and watched as it changed shape, grew taller, gained a gargoyle on each leg, and he didn't hear their gasps through the roaring in his ears, drowning out everything else as he realised he had it, he had his alchemy back, how the _fuck_ did that even happen -

 _And a boon, alchemist who beat me_.

Not ‘human’.

Alchemist.

He buried his face in his hands and simply breathed, for even though he was now away from that place of one and all, it was still the only thing he could do.

* * *

It was almost a week later when Al, early one morning and the blinding smile (that had been there all week) missing, quietly confessed to Ed he wanted to apologise to the bastard Colonel; Ed tried to dissuade him because one, whatever Al had said couldn't have been _that_ bad, it was _Al_ , and two, Mustang had probably deserved it, but Al had heard none of it.

Which was why, two weeks after that, Mustang and Hawkeye were sitting opposite them in the living room with two cups of coffee Granny and Winry had helpfully provided before they'd fucked off to give some privacy.

Ed wished they'd stayed. He'd always been shitty at social conversations, but even he couldn't miss the awkwardness.

Plus, it was a little worrying that Hawkeye carefully kept herself between Al and Mustang, like his brother was dangerous or some shit (Ed wanted to get offended but was too unnerved by how Mustang and Al couldn't look at each other).

None of them seemed to know who should make the first move, which left it up to Ed and _that_ said it all.

"You look a lot less shit now," he finally said, when he'd had enough of scowling back and forth between Mustang and Al. Mustang had showered, his hair back to its stupid perfect form, he had shaved and his uniform was all crisp and proper despite spending hours on a train. He was barely recogniseable as the man back in the hospital.

"I can _look_ now, thanks to you," Mustang replied and his voice was so fucking sincere Ed couldn't quite stop his jaw from dropping, before he hastily crossed his arms and looked away.

"I didn't do shit," he mumbled.

"I beg to differ. Though I hope..." the hesitation made Ed blink and look back over at Mustang because he'd never heard the man do so before. "I hope you'll accept my apology."

"... For what?"

"I left you behind."

Ed shot Al a curious look when he flinched, before looking back at Mustang with a frown and said, "I guess, but it's not like you had much choice." Plus, Ed figured he himself could've done more than just stand and fucking _smile_.

"Didn't I?" Mustang repeated. His face and voice had gone unreadable, were so controlled it set Ed on edge.

" _No_ , why the fuck -" and only because he'd seen it in that place of Truth did he recognise the emotion in Mustang's eyes as terror, and he realised, "You don't remember."

Mustang's head didn't move, but his eyes flickered down at the table momentarily before meeting Ed's again. "I do not," he admitted.

Ed stared and didn't know how to feel. He opened his mouth to explain what happened - but his neck tingled in memory of Mustang shaking against it, his chest ached remembering the bastard fucking cried - and then shut it. If Mustang couldn't remember, that was probably best. Roles reversed, Ed would probably be wishing himself into the ground if the bastard had seen him like that.

So instead he said, "You had to pass a test."

"A test?" Mustang's eyebrows rose.

"Yeah but 'cause you're such a smarmy bastard, you managed to convince fucking _that_ to give you back your eyes anyway," he forced his tone to stay casual, snorted to add to the act, and continued, "Then it got sick of you, naturally, and kicked you out."

"Kicked out?" Al interrupted, looking sick.

"D'you remember -" and then Ed paused, because when he'd fought the hands it had been to Al's body, not Al's soul, so it was possible Al didn't. Instead he just said, "The hands got him," and by the way Al's throat shifted as he swallowed, he knew what Ed meant. "You tried to fight them though, once you realised I wasn't coming with," he glanced back at Mustang. "But... _I've_ tried to fight against them for Al and I couldn't, so there was no way you were gonna beat them."

Mustang's breathing was so faint Ed could barely hear it. "I fought?" Ed took in the way Al was as tense as a bowstring, how much the idea of fighting meant to the bastard, and finally had a sneaking suspicion what had gone on.

"Yeah, there was nothing you could've done," he said and let that sink in for a few seconds before getting up with a wince. "I'm gonna take a piss, back in a sec."

He left the kitchen, but he didn't go to the bathroom. He went out to the front porch instead, where Granny was sitting in a chair and Winry was playing with Den.

"Ed?" Winry frowned as she looked up.

"Fine," he answered the unanswered question. "Just figured they needed some privacy." When Winry and Granny exchanged a surprised look, he scowled. "What?"

"Perhaps he came back wrong," Granny peered at him over her spectacles.

"Fuck off," he said without heat and leaned against the fence railing. Winry joined him and linked her arm through his.

She was silent for a few seconds and then said, "Al didn't take it well. When you were gone." Ed glanced at her but she didn't look at him, kept her gaze out towards the rolling countryside. "He really scared me - us. The look on his face... and his voice, it was so dead at first and then it - he was so angry..." it was only because she was so close he felt her shiver. "If your teacher hadn't stopped him, he would've attacked the Colonel. I've never seen him so mad." 

He wanted to protest, tell them Al wouldn't do that, but he couldn't. Al was rarely livid, but when he was it was like being struck by a lightning bolt - there was a high chance whoever was struck would die. Hadn't he felt that months ago, when Al was doubting his own soul?

"He was hysterical," Granny continued, her voice quiet so it didn't carry inside. "After, he had one of his attacks. He wouldn't calm down, so we had to sedate him."

Al's sensitivity 'attacks' had been relatively few since they'd been in Resembool, but after each one he'd only allowed Ed to get close. Winry and Granny had taken to leaving the room because Al would alternate between suspicion and fear, and Ed hadn't been able to get a fucking answer out of any of them why.

"You _drugged_ him?" he bit out because if Al had been panicking, and all they'd done was pat him on the head and then drug him...

"We didn't know what to do!" Winry said, ripping away to stare pleadingly at Ed. "He just kept saying - he could _hear_ you, that you'd shared his pain but -"

Ed's breath caught in his throat and he clenched his jaw. He took a step forward and Winry stepped back, eyes widening. "He did hear me," he said, his voice so rough he thought it was cutting his throat to pieces. "I did feel his pain," he fought off a shudder at the memory of thousands of needles piercing his skin. "And you're telling me you didn't fucking listen to -"

"Brother?"

He stopped talking and stepped away from Winry as he glanced to where his brother, Mustang and Hawkeye were stood at the door. Al looked between him and Winry and bit his lip, while Mustang and Hawkeye just looked cautious. Hopefully they hadn't heard him, but he decided it was time for a distraction anyway.

"You done?" he asked. Al shot a small smile at Mustang, who nodded back, and Ed grinned. "Good. Come out here, I wanna get a good view of the bastard's face."

Mustang narrowed his eyes and didn't move. "And why is that?"

"What, you chicken?"

"I merely know you," Mustang replied but, when Ed just kept staring at him challengingly, sighed and stepped out onto the porch. "Well?" he adopted the bored tone he always did, like he had a million better things to be doing instead of talking to Ed. It made him want to punch the bastard in his smug face.

"Edward," Hawkeye said, a note of warning in her tone.

"It's okay Lie- Major," Al reassured. Of course he knew what Ed was planning.

"Ready?" Ed's grin grew at the way Mustang tensed and then he clapped his hands, slammed down on the deck and activated his alchemy.

He'd treasure the way Mustang actually stepped back in shock for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE ITS ACTUALLY A HAPPIER ENDING THAN THE MANGA WHAAAAT.
> 
> (I mean, sorta. It's not like rainbows and sunshines here but eventually it will be.)
> 
> So this is basically the end of the story - there's gonna be a short epilogue but that's all - so thank you so much for reading, for commenting, for showing me some love for my first FMA story ever. If you have time I'd love some CC because I want to keep getting better and better, because I still don't quite feel comfortable with my characterisation of certain characters e.g. Mustang. And also I feel like maybe this ending is a bit weak but the whole point was to get his alchemy back and that was where it would always end so idk let me know pretty please ;_;
> 
> I have lots of ideas for ones in the future (I'm gonna start a series called 'Becoming Fuhrer Bastard' but that's all I'm saying shhh) so stick around. 
> 
> See you all in the next one!


End file.
